Coffee Break: 100 Theme Drabbles
by Alicia Blade
Summary: I happily present to you 100 drabbles, stories based around a particular, abstract theme, and often recognized for their short length. Short on time? These can easily be read during your coffee break. All UsaMamo first season.
1. 9 Button

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** There is currently an ongoing 100 Themes challenge (of which this whole Coffee Break Series will be from. Yes, I do intend to do all 100 themes). Plus, as time goes on, we'll be introducing more fun challenges, chats, and discussions. Whether you read, write, or lurk, all Usa/Mamo fans are welcome! View the link on my bio page. 

_Drabbles are stories based around a particular, abstract theme. Often recognized for their short length, they can easily be read during your coffee break. Hence, I present to you..._

Coffee Break  
100 Theme Drabbles

9. Button  
Alicia Blade  
543 words

"Motoki-onii-san!" Usagi wailed. The clerk looked up to see her pouting and clutching the front of her blouse in both hands. "Do you have a needle and thread?" 

"Somewhere, I think. Why?" 

She sighed, a blush tinting her cheeks. "One of my buttons fell off on my walk over." Removing one hand from her blouse, she held up an open palm, revealing a small white button. 

Nodding in understanding, Motoki retreated into the stock room, appearing a moment later with a small sewing kit in hand. Taking it gratefully, Usagi scurried to a corner booth and measured a long piece of thread, cut it with her teeth, threaded the needle, and proceeded to shift her gaze from the needle to the button to her blouse, with a growing frown. 

That's how Mamoru found her a moment later when he strolled into the arcade, looking forward to their afternoon sparring match. 

"Hey, who gave Odango Atama a weapon?" he joked, leaning against the high-backed bench. 

Gasping, Usagi quickly clutched at her blouse again before Mamoru could see the skin revealed where the button had popped off. However, she immediately yelped and tore her hands away as she felt the needle pierce the tip of her thumb. Looking down, she noticed a tiny droplet of blood. 

Mamoru noticed it, too, and a wave of guilt crashed against him. Cringing, he slid onto the bench beside her. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, taking a napkin from the dispenser and wrapping it around her thumb. She only glared at him and, with her free hand, gathered up the material of her shirt again. "What were you doing, anyway?" Mamoru asked. 

"Nothing," she spat. 

He quirked an eyebrow, looking down at the forgotten button on the table. 

Rolling her eyes, Usagi pulled her hand away from his, holding the napkin tightly in her fist. "I was just about to sew on a button that fell off, jerk. Why do you have to be so nosy?" 

"Didn't look like you were getting very far." 

"Oh, shut up." 

"Do you want help?" 

"Not from you." 

"Have you ever sewed anything before?" 

"I think I can figure it out, dimwit." 

Grinning lopsidedly, Mamoru took the needle and button in one hand and gingerly pried Usagi's fingers away from her shirt. Despite her paranoia of saving her modesty, it was only the second button that had fallen off and revealed hardly any more skin at the base of her neck than one normally saw there. Mamoru chuckled and, before Usagi could protest, began to sew on the little white button. 

"Honestly, Odango, you'll make a great housewife someday," he murmured sarcastically, still smiling. 

Usagi, who had been gawking at Mamoru's efficiency with the tiny needle, drew her brow down. "Just throw you in a pink apron, and you would, too, baka." 

Laughing, Mamoru tied off the thread and pulled the affixed button through its hole, tapping it gently against Usagi's sternum. "You just want to see me in an apron." 

"You just want to see me as a housewife!" 

They both paused, the bickering dying as they recognized what the other had insinuated. Their eyes clashed awkwardly for a moment, before color flooded their cheeks and they laughed. 


	2. 1 Chocolate

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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1. Chocolate  
Alicia Blade  
384 Words

"That is so cool," Usagi murmured, her blue eyes wide as they gawked up at the twenty-foot-tall palace that stood in the middle of the Tokyo Shopping Center—a perfect, scaled-down replica of the Taj Mahal, with one fabulous exception. 

It was made completely out of chocolate. 

Dark chocolate, white chocolate, milk chocolate. Chocolate shavings, chocolate cream, chocolate bars, chocolate chips, chocolate syrup—all chocolate. The scent of it was making her knees weak and drool was forming in the corners of her mouth. 

Beside her, Minako, who was equally entranced, responded with a quiet, "This is what Heaven looks like." 

Usagi nodded dazedly. 

"How did they let you past security?" drawled a deep voice. "Aren't they worried you're going to eat their main attraction?" Usagi didn't need to pry her eyes away from the gorgeous structure—she was all too aware of the new gorgeous structure standing beside her: Chiba Mamoru. She ignored him. 

Slightly irritated by Usagi's adamant refusal to acknowledge his presence, Mamoru shook his head and leaned down, whispering in her ear, "Take a picture. It'll last longer." 

Attempting to hide the delighted shudder that ran down her back, Usagi glared at Mamoru's smirk. "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy?" 

"Doing what? Drooling over a gigantic mound of compressed cocoa beans and sugar?" 

"Oh, you're just jealous. This is a work of pure genius!" 

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "Waste of time and chocolate if you ask me. I'm sure the guy who made it is a complete loser with no life." 

Usagi giggled. "Yeah, but if he could make me one of these… I would marry him." 

Furrowing his brow, Mamoru turned to see a dreamy smile on Usagi's lips. His stomach clenched and, having no further retorts, he turned and stomped away. Usagi barely noticed. 

…

"What are you reading?" Motoki asked Mamoru the next day after his best friend had been stuck in a corner booth with his nose buried in a book for nearly three hours. 

"Nothing," Mamoru murmured, his eyes focused intently on the book pages. 

Frowning, Motoki reached forward and pulled the book from Mamoru's hand. 

"Edible Architecture?" Motoki asked, eyeing the cover speculatively. Shaking his head, he gave the book back to an annoyed Mamoru. "I don't even want to know." 


	3. 20 Scars

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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20. Scars  
Alicia Blade  
322 words

"Motorcycle accident," he said, pointing to his right elbow. 

"No way. You do not ride a motorcycle." 

"I do." 

Usagi furrowed her brow and lifted her shin, pointing to a long white mark, and said, "Barnacles. 15 stitches." 

Mamoru shook his head and lifted one trouser leg just enough to show his ankle. "Car accident when I was six. The bone went through the skin." 

She grimaced. "Ouch." 

He shrugged. "I barely remember." 

Rolling up a sleeve, Usagi gestured at a dent in her shoulder. "Stray nail gun in shop class." 

Mamoru flinched. Thought a moment. Lifted his shirt, revealing a muscled chest that made Usagi's heart clog in her throat. "Youma," he said, pointing to a long scar that stretched along his rib cage. 

"No!" 

"Yes." 

"When were you ever near a youma battle?" 

He shrugged. "I have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time." 

Usagi pursed her lips together in thought for a moment, before saying, "You know, Mamoru, chicks dig scars." 

Quirking an eyebrow, Mamoru let his shirt down. "Oh really?" 

She nodded and fluttered her eyes. "It's hot. Kind of dangerous, you know?" 

Feeling suddenly warm, Mamoru leaned back away from the girl who was inching closer to him. He felt blood rush into his cheeks. "Um… er… well…." 

"Especially when their scars are a lot worse than ours." 

"I… that is…" He gulped and licked his lips as the girl leaned so close to him they were almost touching. 

"But," she suddenly chirped and jumped away, "That's not the case." 

"Huh?" 

Standing, she lifted her shirt past her stomach and Mamoru blanched—first at the pale, perfect skin around her waist, but second at the scar running along her abdomen that was twice as long as his own. 

"Youma," she said, winking. Mamoru's jaw dropped. "It's kind of sexy, huh?" she said, laughing at his expression as she turned and skipped away. 


	4. 3 hair

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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3. Hair  
Alicia Blade  
292 words

It was another one. That would make it the… 

He stopped and counted. 

Yes, the sixth one in four days. 

A tight frown pulled down his lips, his brow furrowing. 

Naw, that couldn't be right. How could six… Had he even seen her six times? 

He stopped and counted. 

Why, yes, as a matter of fact, he had seen her six times. Six times exactly. Three times on her way to school, twice at the arcade, and once on his way home from the supermarket. Each time: a collision. Each time: an argument. Each time: one more souvenir left on the lapel of his jacket, standing out like tinsel on a Christmas tree. 

His eyes darkened as he picked the long golden strand off from the wool coat it seemed so magnetically attracted to. He held it up to his face, examining it at eye-level. One perfect strand of impossibly long blonde hair. Mamoru couldn't fathom why he was so fascinated by these little treasures that clung to him every time she crashed into him. So long, so untouched, so soft, so pale. 

It also fascinated him how hours could go by before he even noticed it, though it should have jumped out at him every time he peered in a mirror or glanced down at his watch. It wasn't the case. They just… showed up. Almost like magic. 

Which almost made sense, because… 

He admonished. 

Everything about her was just a little bit magical, wasn't it? 

A sigh. 

He walked to his balcony and held the straw-colored hair out over the railing, before letting it slide between his fingers and float off—down toward the city street corner below. He couldn't help thinking… 

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair. 


	5. 6 Blue Eyes

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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6. Blue Eyes  
Author: Alicia Blade  
Words: 208

It was a moment trapped in a breath, a blink, a heart-skip; less than a tick of your watch, then gone. 

It was a moment so heavy it crushed every thought from your jumbled brain and sent the world settling down on your shoulders. You couldn't breathe. 

It was timeless. 

It was unforgettable. 

It was powerful to the point of leaving you powerless in its wake. 

A day, a normal day with a gray sky and gentle wind and hundreds of thousands of people meandering through their normal, daily lives. 

Window shopping—you can't remember why—you'd passed by a jewelry store. The same jewelry store you'd passed a hundred times, every day, for years. 

But looking in, just this once, you did not see diamonds or sapphires or precious jewels… and yet, you did. Because looking in you saw two blue eyes looking back at you. 

The most beautiful, enchanting, glimmering blue eyes you'd ever seen, dulling all the nearby jewels with their brilliance. 

She froze, too, in that moment, trapped in a breath, a blink, a heart-skip. Then she blushed and looked away and time miraculously started again. 

You walked home, dazed, lost, stumbling, and knowing time would never be the same again. 


	6. 39 Cologne

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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I'm so excited to see people joining the community and posting up their new drabbles. It's all so fun. Thank you to reviewers! Sorry that these aren't as long as you like, but... that would just kind of defeat the purpose. At least there'll be a lot of them! 

39. Cologne  
Alicia Blade  
287 words

Usagi's feet stalled beneath her and she came to a dead-stop, her nose scrunching up suspiciously. Makoto, endlessly chattering beside her, stopped as well. 

"What's wrong, Usagi-chan?" 

Frowning, Usagi looked around, her long blonde hair whipping against her shoulders. "Do you smell something?" 

"Something, as in the perfume department?" Makoto said, snickering and pointing toward a cluster of glass cases. 

"But there's something…. I recognize that scent." 

Makoto sighed and followed her shopping partner toward an assistant who was handing out tiny vials of a caramel-colored liquid. 

"Excuse me, but what are you demo-ing?" 

"Oh, this is one of our most classic scents," answered the saleswoman. It's called _Moonlit Rose_ and is a scent for esteemed gentlemen. Would you like to take some for your father or boyfriend?" 

Usagi took the little bottle and uncorked it, breathing in the aroma with a long, deep breath, followed by a dreamy sigh. It was an intoxicating combination of fresh roses, smoked cherry wood, and rainy mornings. "It's so familiar to me," she murmured half to herself. 

"Maybe you know someone who wears it," commented Makoto, taking a sample for herself. "It is nice." 

"Yeah, nice. And it makes me feel warm and safe and strong and content. I just can't put my finger on where I know it from." Dabbing a bit onto her neck so that she could continue to smell the cologne, Usagi walked off in a daze with Makoto trailing behind her. 

… 

In an apartment on the other side of the city, Mamoru splashed the last bit of his cologne against his neck. "Dang, time to get a new bottle," he muttered, tossing the empty _Moonlit Rose_ bottle into the trash. 


	7. 19 Liar

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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19. Liar  
Alicia Blade  
212 words

"Another run-in with the Odango. And today started out so nice, too." 

_Started out nice, just got nicer._

"Another failed test? Gee, a stick of gum has a higher IQ." 

_And yet I'm the idiot. _

"You're such a crybaby." 

_I'm such a liar._

"Would you quit wailing? You're breaking my eardrums!" 

_Quit glaring at me. You're breaking my heart._

"If I could go one day without having to deal with you…" 

_If I could one day tell you the truth…_

"But you were born to pester me, weren't you?" 

_But I was born to say the wrong things, again and again._

"You're such a ditz, Odango." 

_I don't mean it. I never do. I would take it back if only I thought I stood a chance…_

"Grow up." 

_Never change._

"And stop running into me." 

_I would die if you did._

"One of these days you'll give me a concussion." 

_You're already driving me crazy._

"How come my life was so much simpler before I knew you?" 

_And so much darker. And so much sadder. And so much harder._

"I don't know how Motoki stands you." 

_I think I might be in love with you…_

"Because you are such a ditz." 

_It's just that I'm such a liar._


	8. 50 Advertisement

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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50. Advertisement  
Alicia Blade  
321 words 

"It's a bit over the top, isn't it?" 

Motoki, too busy burying his face in his hands and shaking his head with embarrassment for his best friend, didn't bother to respond. 

"But it gets the point across, don't you think?" 

A loud, drawn-out sigh was heard from the blonde before he finally raised his head with a hopeless look in his eyes. 

"Do you think she'll like it?" 

"Mamoru…" Motoki chuckled nervously, cringing as his eyes fell on Mamoru's latest achievement. "When I said you should give her a sign of your affection, I didn't mean… I was thinking more along the lines of…" He sighed. "Mamoru, you made her a billboard!" 

Mamoru tilted his head to the side, analyzing the forty-foot-high, brightly colored billboard hovering over Tokyo Square with a mixture of pride and nervousness. The billboard that proclaimed, quite adamantly: 

TSUKINO USAGI, I LOVE YOU!  
ALWAYS YOURS, MAMORU 

"What's your point?" he finally asked, chancing to look over at Motoki's sympathetic, slightly-frightened expression. "Do you think it's a bit much?" 

Groaning, Motoki nodded a little, worried of hurting Mamoru's feelings. "You know, Mamoru… girls react nicely to flowers, too. Maybe you should try that approach instead. You know, just for starters?" 

Biting his lip, Mamoru processed the suggestion for a moment, before a slow, understanding smile reached his face. "You know, Motoki, you're right." 

"I usually am." 

"That's a much better idea." 

"I thought so." 

"And I saw in the classifieds that there's a plot of land for sale up north! I can purchase that and plant a whole field of wildflowers! And I can do different colors; she likes pink, right? Oh, I can leave my message in those! Maybe red and white…. If the weather holds, they'll be blooming by July! It's perfect!" 

Rolling his eyes, Motoki turned and walked away, leaving Mamoru to his ramblings and wondering where he'd possibly gone wrong. 


	9. 32 Rain at Midnight

I know, I know, I owe you a real story. Hopefully tomorrow or this weekend... Until then, I hope this will satiate some. 

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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32. Rain at Midnight  
Alicia Blade  
555 words 

The rain stopped, suddenly becoming a halo around her. She flinched, a chill racing down her spine that the rain had previously kept at bay, and looked up. A black umbrella hung over her head. Turning to look over her shoulder, she met with two concerned blue eyes—so dark in the night they were almost as black as the puddle beneath her feet, yet with orange sparks cast in them from the surrounding streetlamps. 

"Mamoru-san…" she breathed, feeling tired. Very tired, weary, drained. 

He frowned, his brow creasing and his lips sinking into a curve that did not become him. "Odango…" He hesitated. "It's almost midnight." 

Turning her head down, she did not bother to respond. 

"What are you—Why are you out here? You'll get sick." 

She shrugged carelessly, wondering if the tone in his voice was patronizing or honestly distressed. "What are you doing out here?" she turned the question back on him. 

The rain drummed methodically against the umbrella and her hair was sticking to her neck; she noticed for the first time that it was itching there around her collar, but she forced herself to ignore it. 

"That's my apartment building," he slowly answered, not bothering to point out which building he was referring to. "The cold woke me up and I got up to close the window and saw you standing out here. Odango, what—" 

"I'm sad, Mamoru." 

It was said with such heartbreaking conviction that it took his breath away and Mamoru found himself wondering if this could possibly be the same girl that laughed and giggled and chattered mindlessly at the arcade every day for hours. He barely recognized her with her eyes downcast and her skin dull and covered in goose bumps and her hair plastered against her porcelain skin. 

"Why?" he whispered. When she didn't answer, he pressed, "What could you possibly have to be sad about?" 

Clenching her jaw, she turned fully away and tied her arms around her waist. "Do you think just because I'm dumb and air-headed, I don't have normal emotions like everybody else? Why can't I be sad from time to time? There's nothing wrong with—" Her voice cracked and she raised her hands up to try and stop the incoming tears. "with… being sad… sometimes…" 

Mamoru stood watching her with his mouth open, feeling awkward and unsure and like an actor in a live show who was never given the script. 

She sobbed. 

The rain was suddenly falling on her again and Usagi gasped, looking up to see the umbrella gone just as Mamoru's arms encircled her, pulling her so close against his chest that she could barely move or breathe. She blinked, the tears stopping their descent down her cheeks, then, slowly, closed her eyes and snaked her arms up beneath his jacket and let herself be held as the rain drenched them mercilessly. The chill left her and for a moment she forgot why she had been crying—her sorrows seemed a hundred years away. 

Which was ironic, she couldn't help but think, breathing in the soap-cologne smell on his shirt, because so often her tears were a result of him and only him. 

But tonight she knew he was the only thing that could have kept them away. 


	10. 13 Future

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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13. Future  
Alicia Blade  
392 words

"Usagi's question is…" Minako chirped, reaching her hand into the pale pink Victoria's Secret bag filled with folded bits of paper. Pulling one out, she opened it and read aloud, "Give the 5 Ws of your dream wedding!" 

Usagi hummed thoughtfully, tugging on the ears of her favorite bunny slippers as the other four girls leaned forward over their pillows and sleeping bags. 

"When will it be?" prompted Makoto. 

"The summer, definitely. Maybe June, around my birthday. It will be outdoors, in a rose garden, and we'll say our vows in a gazebo with ivy growing up the pillars, and the aisle will be covered in red and pink rose petals." 

"How romantic," Makoto swooned. 

"That's where and when, how about _why_?" 

The girls exchanged glances. 

"Okay, that's a stupid question," amended Rei. "But _what_ will you wear?" 

Stars glittered in Usagi's eyes. "An ivory white gown with a train covered in pearls and a bodice made from antique, embroidered handkerchiefs and a veil of eyelet lace." 

"So Victorian," Ami said, giggling. 

"And now for the million dollar question," Minako began in her biggest emcee voice, "_who_ will you marry?" 

Usagi, suddenly shy, became entranced with her furry slippers as a hint of a blush tinted her cheeks. "Weellll…." she drawled, her heart fluttering as she thought of intense blue eyes seeing right through her, tousled black hair untouched by her fingers, strong arms that she'd imagined herself encircled by a hundred times, and a quirky, gently teasing smile—lips so kissable, so tempting, so perfect, and yet so often full of nothing but teasing and mockery. She pictured him in a tuxedo and felt her heartbeat skip. She saw him in that dreamt-up gazebo with the ivy and the roses, her friends and family surrounding them, his hands sliding a diamond onto her finger, his voice like a poet's: "I do." 

"Weelll…?" the girls asked in unison when Usagi didn't seem compelled to answer the final question. 

Coughing uncomfortably, Usagi shook herself from the fantasy. "Well… Tuxedo Kamen, of course!" she said, her giggles hiding a painful sigh. 

Her friends laughed, nodding. 

"Could have called that one," Rei said, reaching into the truth-or-dare bag for the next prompt. 

Urging her heart to a steadier pace, Usagi pulled her pillow to her chest, murmuring into the feathers, "No. No you couldn't have." 


	11. 56 Red String of Destiny

Written for **Usagi and Mamoru: A Love Like No Other.** View the link on my bio page. 

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56. Red String of Destiny  
Alicia Blade  
376 words

"That's the last time I let you muck with the strings! This could make me months, _years,_ to undo!" Fate yelled, her hands already wrapped up in the long, crimson thread. 

Chuckling, Cupid kicked his feet up in the air from his perch on the nearby cloud-sofa. "Bah, don't be such a prude. I was just having fun." 

Fate rolled her eyes, picking at a particularly large knot with her fingernails. "Fun? Fun he says! Honestly, don't you remember what happened the last time you wanted to have _fun?_ That Helen of Troy incident nearly destroyed civilization as we know it." 

Cupid snorted. "Yeah, well, I learned my lesson not to mess with royalty, but don't worry. These were just two basic, boring civilians. See, this girl's barely in high school, and the boy's only in college. They are but needles in the great haystack of the human race. No one will ever notice if they don't fall in love, and with those kinks in the string, you should have _seen_ how they fought at their first meeting. It was the funniest thing I've seen in _centuries._ These two could provide hours of entertainment. Besides, we both know that, left up to you, they would have just had another classic case of 'love at first sight.'" Cupid faked an over-embellished yawn. 

Her shoulders shaking, Fate dropped the string and buried her head in her hands. "What am I going to do with you?" she murmured brokenly, before inhaling a deep breath and looking dejectedly at the string—full of tangles and knots. "Do you have any idea what you've done? That plain old high school girl and college boy are the destined King and Queen of Earth!" 

Cupid blinked silently a minute, his face growing slightly pale. "Erm… really?" 

"Yes, really! Now do you see why you can't go messing around with fate like this?" 

They simultaneously looked down at the mess of string with mutual feelings of hopelessness. "Boy, I sure do know how to pick 'em, don't I?" Cupid said with an embarrassed chuckle, falling to his knees and started untying the string, bit by bit. 

Groaning, Fate returned to her work on the thread as well. "Why can't these things ever be easy?" 


	12. 64 Secret

64. Secret  
Alicia Blade  
387 words

"Because there are forty-six reasons I shouldn't!" Mamoru exclaimed in irritation, dragging a hand through his hair. 

Motoki raised an eyebrow and leaned back in the booth. "Forty-six?" 

"Forty-six." 

"You've counted?" 

"Yes, I've counted." 

After a long pause, Motoki shook his head. "How much free time do you have, anyway?" 

Rolling his eyes, Mamoru resorted to scowling out the window. "It's something I've had on my mind a lot lately, okay?" 

"And you really came up with forty-six reasons?" 

"Yes." 

Motoki whistled quietly. "That's a lot of reasons." 

"I know." 

"What kind of reasons, exactly?" 

Sighing, Mamoru began to count off on his fingers. "She's too young. There's too much competition. Her father doesn't let her date. We have yet to carry on a civil conversation. She's never had a boyfriend and wouldn't be prepared for… well, me. I don't have the time. She thinks I'm a jerk. Statistically, relationships formed at our age rarely work. I have a job and school to think about. We don't have anything in common. She could have any guy she wants. My reputation would be shot. She—" 

"Okay, okay, I get the point," Motoki said, waving is hands for Mamoru to stop, which he did, lapsing them into a silence that contrasted sharply against the noise of the restaurant. A moment later, Motoki took a sip of his water, apparently in deep thought, then set it down and looked at his best friend. "What if I gave you one reason that you should do it, that was worth forty-six reasons on its own?" 

Mamoru looked at him speculatively. "If such a reason existed, they would balance each other out and I'd be back to where I started." 

Motoki grinned. "Reason Number One: Because you love her, Mamoru." 

Mamoru sank into his chair, muttering, "That's not a reason." 

"It is too! It's probably the best reason to do anything! Hell, it should be worth forty-seven reasons, easy!" 

Shrugging uncomfortably, Mamoru said, "Forty-five." 

"Forty-six." 

"Fine, forty-six, therefore it's a tie and doesn't matter anyway!" 

Motoki sighed. "So I just need to come up with one more reason for you to tell Usagi that you love her and the scale will tip?" 

"There are no other reasons." 

"Sure there are," Motoki said, winking. "Reason Number Two: Because she loves you back." 


	13. 42 Desire

Written for the UsakoMamoru One Hundred Themes Challenge on LJ. View my link on my bio page. We now also have a "Choose Your Own Adventure" challenge going, and are accepting fanart, icons, and anything Usa/Mamo related. Hope to see you there!

42. Desire  
Part One of the Luna Pen Series  
Alicia Blade  
492 words

"That's it!" Usagi screeched, stomping into her bedroom and throwing her book bag onto her bed. "I have had it up to _here_ with that man! This time, he has crossed the line. He has gone too far. He is going to get the payback of a lifetime!" As she continued to growl out threats, Luna, rudely awoken from her nap, slowly stretched out her front paws and yawned. 

"What are you rambling about?" 

"Chiba Mamoru," Usagi seethed between clenched teeth. Opening her bag, she proceeded to throw out all of its contents, obviously searching for something. 

"Ah, I should have guessed." After a silent moment of debating with herself, Luna's curiosity got the better of her and she sat back on her haunches. "What did he do this time?" 

"He _said,_" Usagi began, evidently pleased that someone had asked her just that so that she could vent to her heart's desire, "that no man in his right mind would ever date me. He said I'd be lucky to date a gorilla. He said—Hey, what are you laughing at?" 

Luna quickly bit her tongue and looked up at Usagi embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, Usagi-chan. It's just that you get so worked up over this boy! I would have thought you'd learned to ignore him by now." 

Glaring, Usagi reached into her bag and pulled out what she'd been desperately searching for: the Luna Pen. "Ignore him? Ooooh, no. That is way too good for him. I have a much better idea." 

Luna flushed, her eyes widening. "Eh, Usagi, that's not a toy…" 

"Nope. Today, it's a weapon." 

"Erm… what, exactly, do you plan on doing with it?" 

Grinning evilly, Usagi twirled the small wand around her fingers. "First, I'm going to turn myself into the object of Mamoru's desire. Then, he's going to ask me out, and when he's fallen madly in love with me, I'm going to break his heart to pieces!" After cackling for added effect, Usagi held the pen up, much to Luna's horror. "Then we'll see who he's calling a gorilla. Luna Pen, turn me into the most wonderful, beautiful, irresistible girl Mamoru can imagine!" 

Groaning, Luna buried her head in her paws, afraid to look as the pen's magic twirled around Usagi in pink ribbons. But when no delighted squeal erupted from the girl as she'd expected, she braced herself and managed to slowly look up. Frowning, she sat up straighter, staring at Usagi with astonishment as Usagi stared at herself in the full-length mirror. 

"That's odd," Luna mumbled. 

Ignoring the cat, Usagi blinked, frowned, then held the pen up to her ear and shook it, as if expecting to hear something rattling inside. With an annoyed growl, she threw the pen at the wall. "Figures it would break when I need it for something really important!" she cried, before collapsing onto her bed with muffled, frustrated screams. 

Because the pen had left her exactly the same. 


	14. 73 Wild West

Written for the UsakoMamoru One Hundred Themes Challenge on LJ. View my link on my bio page. We now also have a "Choose Your Own Adventure" challenge going, and are accepting fanart, icons, and anything Usa/Mamo related. Hope to see you there!

73. Wild West  
Part Two of the Luna Pen Series  
Alicia Blade  
712 words 

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Ami yelled, irritated at the insistent knocking on her front door. "What do you wa—Usagi?" 

Usagi stood looking stubborn and mischievous on Ami's front door. With a not-so-innocent grin, she held up the Luna Pen, thrusting it under Ami's nose. "Ami-chan," she whined, "it's broken. Can you fix it?" 

Quirking an eyebrow, Ami lowered her blue eyes to the shiny pink pen, analyzing it for a moment, before looking back up at Usagi. "What did you do to it?" 

"Nothing!" Usagi insisted. 

Ami frowned. 

"I swear!" 

Ami folded her arms and patiently tapped her foot. 

Sighing, Usagi lowered her arm with the pen still clutched in her fingers. "I just asked it for something _really_ simple, but it wouldn't work!" 

A snort from the direction of Usagi's ankles alerted Ami that Luna was also standing on her front porch, though one look at the feline advisor made clear to Ami that she was there for entertainment purposes, not because she condoned anything Usagi said or did. 

"What did you ask it for?" 

Blushing, Usagi looked down, burying her toes into the plush welcome mat beneath her. "Well… it might sound kind of strange at first, so don't get the wrong idea, but I… I asked it to turn me into the object of Mamoru's desire." 

Both of Ami's eyebrows shot up in disbelief and Usagi quickly raised both of her hands in protest. "Not because I _want_ to be the object of his desire or anything!" 

Giggling, Ami shook her head. "Suuuure, Usagi-chan." 

"Really, I don't!" Usagi faked gagging even as her cheeks turned pinker than the pen in question. 

"Then, why…?" 

"_Because_ I was trying to teach him a lesson!" 

"A lesson." 

"Yes, a lesson! You see, he said only a gorilla would date me, so I was going to turn myself into a girl he would want to date, and then we would go out and he would fall in love with me and then I would break his heart and call him a gorilla! Get it?" 

Sighing with disappointment, Ami rubbed her fingers against her temple. "Usagi-chan, the Luna Pen is only supposed to be used for Senshi matters." 

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't realized it yet, Einstein, the Luna Pen's not gonna be used for much of anything if it's _broken._" 

"Well, have you tried asking it to turn you into something else?" 

Usagi blinked. "Well, no… But… well, fine, I'll try, but watch, it won't work." She thought for a moment, before holding the pen up and declaring, "Luna Pen, turn me into a western cowgirl!" Instantly, pink glittering ribbons surrounded Usagi and a moment later they faded away, leaving Usagi, but not Usagi. Her hair was now in a long straight braid down her back and a cowboy hat sat on her head. A large belt with a cattle engraving on the buckle cinched a tiny denim skirt and a black leather vest with long fringe at her waist, and calf-high embroidered boots with shiny silver spurs adorned her legs. 

Usagi gawked down at her new outfit, then looked up to see Ami with an amused expression on her face. Luna's laughing distracted her from Ami's impish grin and it took all of her willpower not to dropkick the cat toward the curb. 

"Shut up! I didn't expect it to _work!_" 

"Well, Usagi-chan, it looks like you need to re-think your theory of the Luna Pen being broken." 

Scowling, Usagi shook the pen next to her ear again, but still everything seemed intact. "But then why didn't it work before?" 

Ami shrugged. "Try again." 

With determination, Cowgirl Usagi thrust the pen up again. "Luna Pen, turn me into the prettiest, most charming, lovable girl Mamoru-baka can imagine! And this time, you better work!" 

The same familiar ribbons twirled around her and Usagi closed her eyes with anticipation. When she opened them, Ami was gawking at her with an expression full of shock. Taking that as a good sign, Usagi excitedly looked down at her outfit, but her grin quickly fell upon seeing that the pen _had_ changed her—right back to what she'd been before. 

"Hm…" Ami muttered, taking the pen out of Usagi's grasp. "Maybe it's really broken after all." 


	15. 41 Jacket

Written for the UsakoMamoru One Hundred Themes Challenge on LJ. View my link on my bio page. We now also have a "Choose Your Own Adventure" challenge going, and are accepting fanart, icons, and anything Usa/Mamo related. Hope to see you there!

41. Jacket  
Part Three of the Luna Pen Series  
Alicia Blade  
560 words 

Rei looked up from sweeping the temple steps to see Usagi, Ami, and Luna walking toward her—Usagi looking furious, Ami looking perplexed, and Luna looking evidently amused. 

Before she could call out a greeting, Usagi yelled out, "Rei, we need your help!" 

"Well nice to see you too, Odango Atama." 

Usagi scowled. "Don't call me that." 

"What are you guys doing here? Has the Negaverse done something?" 

Ami looked up ponderously. "I don't _think_ it's Negaverse related." 

"The Luna Pen is malfunctioning," Usagi answered, pulling the pen out of her purse. "And we don't know why." 

"Well what did you _do_ to it, Usagi?" 

"I didn't do anything! How come everyone keeps asking me that?" 

"Because you're such a klutz, you probably banged it one too many times when crashing into a lamppost." 

"I did not!" 

Usagi's whining was cut short by Ami grabbing the pen out of her hand and shooing them all into the closest dojo. "Stop arguing, you guys. This could be serious. We need to be sure that the Luna Pen isn't having any major problems, in case we ever need it for a _real_ emergency." 

"What were you trying to use it for?" Rei asked, and grew increasingly curious as Ami and Luna both turned teasing smiles on Usagi, who, for her part, immediately tried to make herself invisible. "Usagi?" 

"I just... asked it... to... mamethobjetomamrusdsire." 

"Excuse me?" 

Sighing, Usagi raised her eyes up the ceiling in exasperation. "I asked it to make me the object of Mamoru's desire, okay?" 

Bursting into a fit of laughter, Rei fell to the floor clutching her stomach. "You what?" she cackled. "Well no _wonder_ it's not working! No amount of magic could ever make Mamoru want _you!_" 

"Hey! I resent that remark!" 

Rolling her eyes, Rei turned to see Ami watching them and looking torn between laughing at the thought herself or chastising Rei for being mean. Shaking her head, she tried to bring them back to the present issue. 

"So I've analyzed all of its inner compartments, wiring, and chemical makeup and nothing seems to be wrong. Rei, I was wondering if you could do a spiritual check on it to see if it's emitting any strange vibes that could relate to the disturbance." 

Shrugging, Rei sat back on her heels and picked up the pen, turning it over in her hands. "It doesn't feel strange. It feels just like all of the Senshi equipment does." After a moment of thinking, she handed it back to Usagi. "Maybe the problem isn't the pen. Maybe the problem is Mamoru." 

"The problem's _always_ Mamoru," Usagi muttered. 

"What do you mean, Rei?" 

"Maybe it just can't read into Mamoru's thoughts and feeling. Here, Usagi, why don't you try turning yourself into something else Mamoru-related. Like... dress up in some of his favorite things or something." 

Sighing, Usagi held up the Luna Pen, and declared (feeling rather foolish as she did so), "Luna Pen, dress me up in Mamoru's favorite things!" 

A moment later, a blood-curdling shriek rang through the grounds of the Cherry Hill temple. 

"Oh, get it off, get it _off_," Serena wailed, tearing Mamoru's favorite, hideous green jacket off of her as fast as she could, before collapsing and cringing in a corner. "And I thought it was bad on _him, _" she said with a horrified shudder. 


	16. 53 Giddy

Written for the UsakoMamoru One Hundred Themes Challenge on LJ. View my link on my bio page. We now also have a "Choose Your Own Adventure" challenge going, and are accepting fanart, icons, and anything Usa/Mamo related. Hope to see you there!

53. Giddy  
Part Four of the Luna Pen Series  
Alicia Blade  
420 words 

"Ami couldn't figure it out with her brains. Rei couldn't figure it out with her psychic powers. What, exactly, do you want me to do about it?" Makoto asked, munching on a homemade cookie as she, Usagi, Ami, Rei, and Luna all sat around her dining room table. 

"I dunno," Usagi mumbled through her own mouthful. "Just thought maybe you'd have an idea." 

Shrugging, Makoto grabbed the wand, thunked it three times hard on the table, and handed it back. "Percussion therapy always works on my TV when it's acting up. Try that." 

Frowning at the pen, Usagi sighed. "Somehow I don't think that fixed it." 

For a moment, the small kitchen was filled with only the sounds of cookies being munched on as the girls pondered some other tactics. Suddenly, Makoto perked up. "Here's an idea! Maybe the Luna Pen can't read the emotion of _desire_ well. Maybe it thinks you're asking it to turn you into the object of Mamoru's wrath." 

"That would make sense," Usagi responded enthusiastically, though Ami and Rei looked slightly more doubtful. 

"I don't remember the Luna Pen having any problems with those sorts of things," Luna said with a frown, "but why don't we test it? Usagi, try turning yourself into the object of someone else's desire and see what happens." 

With a drawn out sigh, Usagi lazily held up the pen. "You know, I'm getting really sick of turning into things today. How about... Luna Pen, make me into the object of Tuxedo Kamen's desire!" The all-too-familiar pink ribbons swirled around her and a second later Sailor Moon stood in Makoto's kitchen. "_Cool!_" Usagi exclaimed, jumping up and down ecstatically in her red boots. "I'm the object of Tuxedo Kamen's desire! Me! All this time, he's been secretly in love with me, can you believe it?" Blushing, she twirled around, then balled her hands into fists and pumped at the ceiling a few times, then skipped around the table laughing maniacally, before finally sprawling herself onto a chair with chipper giggles and staring dreamily up at the ceiling. "This is perfect! Next time I see him I'll tell him I love him and then he'll swoop me up in that cape of his and fly me away to some romantic, secluded lookout and we'll watch the sun set together and have strawberries and champagne and live happily ever after and—" 

Groaning, Makoto buried her face in her hands and tried to ignore Usagi's continued rambling. "Yeah, that thing is definitely broken." 


	17. 66 Multiplication

Written for the UsakoMamoru One Hundred Themes Challenge on LJ. View my link on my bio page. We now also have a "Choose Your Own Adventure" challenge going, and are accepting fanart, icons, and anything Usa/Mamo related. Hope to see you there!

66. Multiplication  
Part Five of the Luna Pen Series  
Alicia Blade  
410 words

"The way I see it," said Minako, twirling a lock of her long blonde hair around a finger, "there are two possible explanations. The first," she paused for dramatic effect, "is that the object of Mamoru's desire _is_ Usagi." 

A silence pressed down on the group of girls as Minako's statement settled around them. The clock ticked on the wall, a fly hummed above the swishing ceiling fan, and the endless roar of city traffic drifted in through an open window. 

"But as we all know how unlikely that is," Minako chirped and the other girl's faces fell with relief—except Usagi, who bristled angrily, "then I think the problem must be that the pen simply can't turn _Usagi_ into the object of Mamoru's desire." 

"I told you no amount of magic could accomplish that," Rei snottily commented and Usagi turned her scowl on the priestess. 

"You know, for being my best friends, you guys sure are putting my self-esteem through the ringer today." 

Makoto brushed away Usagi's complaint with an airy wave of her hand. "You know we love you, Usagi-chan. It's just that... well, come on, Mamoru is a hunk." 

"And older." 

"And monetarily secure." 

"And really smart." 

"Yeah, and he has all the charm of a turnip," Usagi snapped, folding her arms angrily over her chest. "That man would be lucky to have a girl like me!" 

Snorting, Rei picked up the Luna Pen. "Yeah, whatever, Usagi. So, Minako, you think that maybe somebody else could turn themselves into the object of Mamoru's desire then?" 

Minako shrugged. "Why not?" 

"It does have potential," remarked Ami, pulling out her computer. 

With a glint in her eye, Rei held the pen up above her head. "Well, I'm sure we won't see much of a difference, but... Luna Pen, turn me into the object of Mamoru's desire!" 

Usagi rolled her eyes as pink ribbons burst from the pen, surrounding Rei in their sparkling tendrils. The transformation took longer than Usagi's normally did as the girls watched on with bated breaths. Then, finally, the ribbons faded away, leaving... 

Four jaws dropped. Luna's tail twitched. 

"Well? What is the man really looking for?" Rei asked perkily, skipping over to a mirror on Minako's wall. Then, she froze, her—blue—eyes widening drastically and her hands reaching up to feel her cheeks, her chin, her... odangos. 

Rei's scream was followed by two loud thuds as she and Usagi fell to the floor unconscious. 


	18. 77 Fantasy

Written for the UsakoMamoru One Hundred Themes Challenge on LJ. View my link on my bio page. We now also have a "Choose Your Own Adventure" challenge going, and are accepting fanart, icons, and anything Usa/Mamo related. Hope to see you there!

Please forgive the inconsistencies in location between parts 5 and 6. I wrote them a couple days apart... 

77. Fantasy  
Part Six of the Luna Pen Series  
Alicia Blade  
1201 words 

"Where. Did. You. Put it?" Rei said through clenched teeth, her hands clenching the skirt of her blue school uniform in big fistfuls. 

"Not telling," Minako sang mischievously. 

Forcing herself to take steady breaths and not pull out the blonde pigtails on either side of her head, Rei tried again. "Aino Minako, if you do not tell me where you put that Luna Pen I swear to the Powers That Be that when I find it, I am going to shove it up your—" 

"Rei!" Ami scolded. 

"Oh, don't give me that! You're as much a part of this as she is! And you!" she rounded on Makoto who was turning red in an attempt to hide her laughter. "You are going to get burnt to a crisp if I hear one more peep out of you! Don't think I won't! Now will somebody tell me _where you put that pen?_"

"Rei…" a quiet voice moaned from the corner and Rei turned to see Usagi slowly sitting up and rubbing her head. "Stop yelling. You're giving me a headache." Slowly, her drowsy gaze rose up to the priestess and her blue eyes widened. "Hey! You look like me!" 

"Always the observant one." 

"But… but it was a dream!" 

"Don't I wish. Usagi-chan, they hid the Luna Pen! I say we take Ami; she'll be the easiest to make talk. So you hold her arms and I'll—Usagi! Pay attention! I don't want to be stuck as _you_ for the rest of my life!" 

But Usagi had zoned out, her pale blue eyes gazing unseeing at the dojo wall, her mouth hanging open. "The Luna Pen… turned you into…me." 

"Hey, Sherlock, a little help over here?" 

"But… you asked it to…. But that would mean…" 

"_Someone tell me where that pen is before I rip off these pigtails and strangle you with them!_" 

"That makes _me_ the object of Mamoru's desire!" 

"Uh, Rei-Dudette, has, like, a visitor..." 

"Can't you see I'm busy, Yuuchirou! Tell them to come back later!" 

Stalling in the doorway, Yuuchirou blinked at the blonde through his mop of thick brown hair, and, realizing her mistake, Rei's anger quickly sizzled. "Rei's not here," she quickly amended. "I think she went to the… uh… um…bathroom." 

"I can wait for her." 

Five hearts leaped into five throats at the sound of a deep voice outside the doorway. Yuuchirou, looking shaken and uncomfortable, quickly left, making room for Mamoru to saunter into the doorway. 

"Gee, Odango, no need to bite the guy's head off. I wasn't looking for you, anyway, if you didn't hear him." 

The girls found that they couldn't move and Usagi, still hiding in the corner, desperately tried to will herself invisible. 

They all held their breaths as Mamoru walked in, his eyes watching Rei with the glint of a challenge in them, but it began to fade when his opponent only gawked at him with a mixture of nervousness and astonishment. 

"Wh—what are you doing here?" 

He quirked an eyebrow. "I came to ask Rei if I could borrow a book on martial arts she was telling me about. Is she around?" That's when his eyes circled the room, noting all the familiar girls, and then… 

Mamoru's breath caught. 

Usagi squeaked. 

Rei pursed her lips and wished with everything in her that it was all just a bad dream. 

Everyone watched him, waiting, hoping that someone else would come up with a master plan so that they wouldn't have to. Mamoru's blue eyes shifted from Usagi to Rei and back to Usagi and back to Rei and back to Usagi once more. No one spoke for a long time, before finally, slowly, Usagi realized that the situation wasn't going to get any better any time soon, so she forced herself to stand and say, in as even a voice as she could manage, "Mamoru-baka, have you met my twin sister…" _Think of a good name, think of a good name, think of a good name._ "…Odango?" 

Usagi flinched at her own stupidity. The rest of the girls groaned and Rei smacked her hand to her forehead with a muttered, "Why me?" 

Mamoru's eyebrows shot up as he analyzed Usagi's "twin." "You have a twin? Named… Odango?" 

After laughing nervously and twiddling her thumbs, Usagi shook her head and said, "No, _silly,_ that's just what I call her." 

"You call your twin Odango." 

"Yeah. Ironic, huh?" 

Mamoru looked at her, his mouth open as if to say something, but he evidently couldn't figure out exactly what question to begin with, and so he closed it again. 

"Hi!" Rei said with a face full of resignation and held out her hand. "My name's… Miko." 

Mamoru shook the proffered hand limply, his eyes still staring at Usagi. "Since when do you have a twin?" he stuttered. 

"Not as long as one might think." 

Closing his eyes, Mamoru shook his head a few times, and upon opening them again, took a moment to compare Rei and Usagi bewilderedly. "But… how come… why didn't I… there are _two_ of you?" 

"Yup," Usagi said nervously, and then a sudden idea crept into her thoughts and before she knew what she was thinking, the words were escaping her. "Wow, this must be, like, a dream come true for you, huh?" 

"Usagi!" Rei chided. 

"_What?_" Mamoru breathed, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson. "What do you… How… But there are…" With a groan, he pressed his palms up against his ears. "You have got to be kidding me." 

"It's just that," Usagi continued, ignoring Rei's outburst and Mamoru's growing bewilderment, "if I'm already the object of your desire, it must be pretty cool to have two of me, right?" 

Mamoru's jaw hung open as he looked at her. "The object of my _what?_" 

"You know, the object of your…" 

Clunk. 

Thud. 

Usagi and Rei gasped as Mamoru fell face-first onto the dojo's floor, Makoto hovering above him with an impish grin and the Luna Pen in one hand. "Percussion therapy; works every time. Here you go, Rei-chan," she said, tossing the pen to Rei. 

"Thank God," Rei mumbled, wasting no time in transforming back to her normal self. 

"Hey, I was going somewhere with those questions!" Usagi spouted angrily. 

"Honestly, Usagi, I think Mamoru was too dazed to ever give you a straight answer," Ami said, kneeling down and feeling the bump on Mamoru's head to make sure Makoto hadn't done too much damage. "If you want to know if you're really the object of his desire, I think you'll have to find a better way to ask him." 

Minako, who had been giggling quietly to herself since almost the beginning of the whole charade, waved Ami's suggestion away. "Oh, come on. The look on his face was all the evidence you need!" 

…

Two hours later, a disheveled Mamoru woke up groggily on his living room couch, still dressed, with a killer headache, and having no idea exactly how he'd gotten there. Sitting up, he rubbed at his head and mentally went over the dream he'd had, followed by a disappointed sigh. 

"Man, and that dream had so much potential, too." 


	19. 57 Confessions

Something a little sappier to finish it off with! Hope you all enjoyed! 

57. Confessions  
(Part Seven and the Conclusion of the Luna Pen series)  
Alicia Blade  
1104 words 

"Admit it!" 

Mamoru jumped, his coffee splashing over the lip of his cup. Whirling around, he saw Usagi glowering at him with her hands on her hips and a pink wand-looking object clutched in one fist. 

"Do you really have to scream, Odango Atama?" he muttered, smirking. He still had a headache from yesterday when he'd mysteriously woken up in his apartment, though he still had no recollection of what had happened to cause the dull pounding in his skull. 

"A. Don't call me that, and B. Admit it!" 

"Admit what?" he drawled, raising the coffee mug to his lips; the handle was becoming sticky where the coffee had spilled. 

"Admit that you like me!" 

He choked. The coffee splashed some more. "Excuse me?" 

"Don't play ignorant with me, Mamoru. I have evidence!" She waved the pink wand thing in his face momentarily and he raised an eyebrow in speculation. 

"Evidence?" 

"Yeah! Erm…" Usagi paused, looking at the wand thing for a moment, before quickly hiding it behind her back, her brave countenance looking suddenly flustered. "Not _with_ me, but I do have some!" 

Mamoru chuckled. "Sure you do, Odango." 

"Don't call me that!" she shrieked. Then she paused, obviously re-gathering her composure, and proceeded. "Anyway, like I said, I know for a fact that you think I'm beautiful and wonderful and sweet and that you _want_ me. So do us all a favor and just come clean, buster!" 

Mamoru laughed obnoxiously and Usagi's face turned red with anger. "You've been watching too many soap operas. Whatever makes you think that I would want you?" 

She opened her mouth with a quick retort, but seemed to think better of it. "I just do. And the girls all know, too, so there's no use denying it." 

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "What, did you find my secret stash of love letters or something? And gee, I thought I'd hidden them so well." 

Usagi's eyes got very big. "You have a secret stash of love letters?" she whispered, but her awe was quickly destroyed by Mamoru's laughter. 

"It's called sarcasm, Odango." 

Screwing up her lips, Usagi folded her arms over her chest and stomped her foot. "Why can't you just _admit it?_" 

With a sigh, Mamoru leaned his elbows back against the counter and watched the fuming girl for a long while, his expression unreadable. Finally, his eyes becoming suspicious, he drawled, "Let me get this straight. You want me to admit that I think you're beautiful and charming and sweet and all-around amazing." 

Usagi nodded. 

"You want me to tell you I like you." 

She nodded again. 

"Just like that? You just want me to come out and _say_ it." 

She nodded once more, impatiently now. 

"Even if it's not true?" 

She blinked at him. "But it is true. I know it's true," she said with more confidence than she felt. Despite the Luna Pen's claims, her certainty was crumbling fast beneath Mamoru's studious gaze. 

"Right," Mamoru said, smirking. "Because you have evidence." 

Usagi had to force herself not to pull out her pigtails. "Yes, I do! So why can't you just admit it and save us the trouble of fighting about it?" 

"And what's in it for me if I do?" 

The unexpected words knocked something loose in Usagi's chest. She had walked into the arcade knowing that she was right and that Mamoru liked her—maybe even loved her—but she hadn't given much thought to what would happen between them once it was all out in the open. 

If any of the girls had asked, she would have told them she planned on using the knowledge to rub it in his face, or as a ward against his taunts and teases. 

But now, looking up into his intense blue eyes that were filled with so much tenderness, so much pain, so much fear, so much desire, so much… she didn't think she could use his own affections against him, especially if she somehow found herself lucky enough to be the owner of such affections. 

Taking her silence as a sign that Usagi didn't really want any such confession, Mamoru turned back toward the counter and took a long drought of his cold coffee. He was an expert at always remaining calm and composed on the outside and so he knew that he had given nothing away, nothing worth noticing at least, and yet on the inside his heart was thudding like a drum against his ribs. For the first time since he'd met her, he wanted her to go away. He didn't want her to keep looking at him like that, expecting something from him that he wasn't sure he was ready to give. He didn't want her knowing he had a weakness. He didn't want her knowing that weakness was her. 

Then she was behind him, so close he could smell her perfume and feel her breath on his ear when she whispered in tones full of fear and uncertainty, "Maybe I would tell you I like you too." 

He turned just enough so that he could face her and she didn't back away, just looked up at him with those beautiful eyes filled with worry and anticipation and hope. Mamoru gulped and licked his lips subconsciously and felt his fingers twitch toward her, stopping only when they brushed the material of her skirt, but she didn't flinch or move away, just waited. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. He saw that Usagi was trying to smile comfortingly, a little promise, a little gift that she wasn't sure he would accept from her. Slowly, he tried to smile back. Hers widened and he felt his heart skip and tumble and his fingers were no longer too afraid to press against her, gently along her lower back. Leaning forward, he brushed her lips with his. She gasped quietly but he was already pulling back. 

The surprise quickly wore off and Usagi's eyelids fluttered shyly. She looked down, feeling very cute and silly and like coming in here and demanding Mamoru's confession was the best decision she'd ever made in her life. Licking her lips, she slowly raised her eyes to his again, and his expression looked charmed and content, though still nervous, still unsure. 

"Yesterday," she breathed, and he cocked his head curiously to one side, "you told me only a gorilla would ever kiss me." 

As the words sank in, a little blush crept onto Mamoru's cheeks and he shrugged uncomfortably. "Just call me a gorilla, then." 

Giggling, she nodded. "I will," she said, and kissed him again. 


	20. 59 Unrequited Love

Okay, Jo-chan started it by saying that originally a "true" drabble was only 100 words, so of course I had to TRY. Though there probably won't be many of these. (It's harder than it looks!) 

59. Unrequited Love  
Alicia Blade  
100 words

She felt him every moment of every hour of every day. It seemed like he had some invisible clone who walked beside her everywhere she went, who knelt at her desk throughout the school day, who snuggled beside her at night. She would wake beside him, seek out his warmth, beg him to cradle her and kiss her and make promises that she would soon realize did not exist. They were her own whispers filling her ears. Her own desires encompassing her heart. Her own dreams giving her solace and love and comfort. 

And yet she felt him every moment. 


	21. 29 Buried Treasure

Yeah... if you don't know where these are coming from by now, you're not paying enough attention. Enjoy! 

Edit: So, I have NO IDEA what all the question marks are about. I am trying to fix it... Let me know if they start popping up again.

29. Buried Treasure  
Alicia Blade  
381 Words

"You're crazy," Mamoru mumbled to himself, plunging the shovel into the light sand surrounding the lake. "Yes, you have gone completely out of your mind." He lifted the shovel and dumped it off to the side of the hole. "You're stupid. . .." Digging the shovel in. "And hopeless. . .." Throwing the dirt aside. "And absolutely insane." He continued to punctuate each accusation with another pass of the shovel until a small hole remained before him, about two feet square and a foot deep.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, he dropped the shovel and stooped to pick up a metal lockbox. Opening it one last time, he looked down longingly on the contents, feeling inadequate and corny and strangely, awkwardly hopeful.

Resting inside, on a bed of red rose petals that would not fade, was a small jewelry box and a letter. The jewelry box held a pair of pearl earrings in a light shade of pink. The letter held more of his insecurities than he'd ever considered keeping in one, compact place. Yes, it was a love letter, he was almost ashamed to admit. A love letter in which he had kept back nothing; confessed everything; and even signed his own name, despite how desperately his brain had wanted him to sign it "Secret Admirer." He hadn't given in. He figured if he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. Mamoru had never been one to make lame attempts, and she deserved nothing but the best.

Plus—for good measure—he'd thrown in a coupon book for a month of free milkshakes.

Sighing, he locked the box and set it down in the hole.

"Usagi, you have a letter," Tsukino Ikuko said, handing her daughter a red envelope.

Taking it giddily, Usagi tore open the envelope, wondering what it could be (she never got letters unless it was nearing the holidays). Pulling out a folded piece of paper, she opened it curiously as a little silver key tumbled into her palm.

"What is it?" her mother asked upon seeing Usagi's scrutinizing gaze.

Turning her attention away from the key and back to the paper, Usagi noted a large red X somewhere near the middle, and slowly said, "I think it's a treasure map. . ."


	22. 44 Dirty Nails

I don't know what was up with the question marks in the last couple drabbles and Dorothy Smith, I've tried re-uploading to no avail... but I'll try re-posting in hopes that I can get rid of them... sorry about that. 

... 

So, you guys can't just DEMAND a sequel, you know.

... 

Okay, maybe you can. 

44. Dirty Nails  
Sequel to 29. Buried Treasure  
Alicia Blade  
1068 words 

Mamoru paced back and forth in his living room, shaking so hard he thought he was going to be sick. He'd never been so nervous in his entire life. He'd thought writing the letter was bad; he'd thought burying the box was horrible; he'd thought writing her address on the treasure map and dropping it into the mailbox was agony; but now he knew a whole new kind of torture. 

_Waiting._

Wondering if she'd found it yet. 

Wondering if she was even looking for it. Maybe she'd passed the map off as a joke or a scam or... junk mail. 

He shuddered. 

Was she in the park? By the lake? Had she found it? Had she opened it? 

Did she like the earrings? Had she read the letter? Was she laughing at him right now? Showing it to her friends? Thinking he must surely be the biggest idiot on the face of the planet to ever think in a million years he might stand a chance with her? 

Or maybe, possibly, she felt the same way? 

Yes, he was definitely going to be sick. He desperately wanted to go to the lake�maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she hadn't gotten there yet. There was still time for him to dig it up and she would never know...! 

But he couldn't do that. He refused to be such a coward. 

Still, maybe he could go and watch, just to see her reaction when she found it, when she opened it. If she looked happy, he could step out and pull her into his arms. If she looked baffled or disbelieving, he could reassure her of its truth. If she looked scornful, he could pass it off as a big practical joke. Or just go and hide in a hole and never show his face to the world again. 

It took most of his willpower not to grab his jacket and sprint to the lake. The rest of his willpower was being used to calm his screaming nerves as much as possible. 

A knock on the door brought a yelp from Mamoru's mouth and he spun toward the innocent entryway with a look of fear and dread. 

Could she have found it so quickly? Could it really be her standing on the other side of that doorway, waiting to see him, waiting with a response to his pleading confession? 

The knock came again, more persistent this time, and Mamoru gulped and shakily crossed the room. After wiping a sweaty palm on his pants, he slowly reached for the door and, equally slowly, pulled it open. 

It was her. 

His heart leapt. 

She was scowling. 

His heart plummeted. 

Without a greeting, she held up one hand�Mamoru noted a familiar lockbox tucked beneath the other arm and thought he might pass out. 

"Look!" she ordered, holding her hand mere inches from Mamoru's face. 

So he looked. 

And blinked. 

"Um... what...?" 

"I just got a manicure _two days_ ago," she explained bitterly. At least, Mamoru thought it was probably some sort of explanation, though he wasn't entirely sure what it was she was explaining. 

"Um..." 

"And now look at my nails!" 

He looked. 

"They're filthy!" 

"Oh."

"You know, if someone would have bothered to _tell_ me that I was going to be digging around on the _beach_ I could have brought a shovel, but no, there was no indication that any such tools were needed. I was just sent out, completely clueless, into the world with nothing but a map!" During her monologue, Usagi had stormed into his apartment and Mamoru had bewilderedly closed the door and now he stood leaning against it with his head spinning while she stood glaring at him, her hand still waving in front of his face. "Do you know how much manicures _cost_?" 

He thought, then confessed, "No." 

Biting back a retort, Usagi pulled her hand back and fisted it on top of her hip. "Well, a lot. At least, to someone who relies on a weekly allowance they do." 

Mamoru stared at her, his jaw hanging open, and she stared back, looking irritated, but... not bitter. In fact, it almost looked like a teasing irritation. Then, he noticed her ears and his eyes widened. 

"You're wearing the earrings," he whispered, his heart skipping. They looked lovely on her. He knew they'd be perfect. 

Her look of contempt quickly fell and Usagi pursed her lips, moving the box to both hands and hugging it lightly to her stomach. "Thank you," she breathed quietly. 

Mamoru gulped, feeling utterly confused and wondering if love was always this hard and overwhelming. Didn't she know what she was doing to him, standing there in his living room with those pearls in her ears and that box in her arms and, not two minutes ago, yelling at him? 

"I'm sorry... about the nails. I didn't think... It didn't really occur to me to..." 

But it was obvious that Usagi wasn't listening as she shook her head and set the box down on a nearby table. Mamoru instantly felt queasy again. Was she giving it back? 

But then she looked up at him with the tiniest smile on her perfect little lips and her eyes slick with unshed tears, and whispered, "Did you mean it?" 

"Every word," he responded without hesitation and felt his hopes soaring as her smile widened. 

"I wish..." she murmured, nearing him with her eyes lowered and her hands clasped in front of her stomach. "I wish you would have told me sooner." 

And instantly, Mamoru did too. When she came close enough, he gently covered her arms with his hands, prompting her to look up at him. "Does that mean that you...?" 

Her lashes fluttered and he sensed the slightest nod and all reason escaped Mamoru. Another second and she was surrounded completely by his arms, his face buried into her neck, and Usagi was giggling at his uncharacteristic display of affection. She tied her arms around his shoulders and lightly kissed his hair. He squeezed her tighter for a moment and as he pulled away, a grin glowing on his face, she sweetly asked, "So, do you want to go get a milkshake? It looks like I've got at least a month's worth now." 

Chuckling, Mamoru kissed her forehead and nodded. "Usako, as long as you're mine, you have a never ending supply of milkshakes." 


	23. 71 Quiet Despair

A sad one...

71. Quiet Despair  
Alicia Blade  
311 words 

She was hollow. And she was watching him again, unable to take her eyes off of him. 

For a moment, her imagination teased her with the delighted hope that perhaps he would look up at her and smile and all of her problems would be over. 

Her chest was crushing her heart in its stronghold. She was breaking. 

Her brain dwelled longingly on every thought she'd spent on him since the first moment he'd caught her eye. Hours. _Days._ She was giving him everything: every breath, every prayer, every ounce of her time and patience and devotion and loyalty. 

He was giving her nothing. 

She wanted nothing but his happiness and found herself spending all her efforts dreaming of ways he could have it. Anything he ever asked for would be his, without hesitation. A place in her family; a family of his own. Arms to protect him with; lips to stir up and satiate his passions; support and direction and encouragement. He could have it all. She was so willing. She'd already given it away to him, leaving nothing to be given to another. She never wanted to give this to another. 

He didn't know she was offering it to him, of course. Ignorantly he sat, three stools away, talking to his best friend who offered him a little, just a little, of something. Flirting with the girls who offered him, in comparison, nothing. 

It made her shiver to think of it. It made her sick. 

She thought aimlessly of the nights she'd spent crying over him: aching, dying. 

But she'd never even kissed him, and she'd once heard that you couldn't miss something you'd never had. 

That, she knew, was not true. 

Because she missed him, so much it was breaking her. 

Or perhaps she was missing the heart he'd so carelessly stolen, so much it left her hollow. 


	24. 82 The Small Things

82. The Small Things  
Alicia Blade  
910 words 

Mamoru was having a horrible day. 

He'd ran out of coffee, making the brew weak and disgusting. He'd left his best shirt hanging on the balcony rail to day--and, of course, it had rained. His neighbors had used up the hot water, leaving him to take a cold shower. He couldn't find a matching pair of socks. His car got a flat tire. His bio partner hadn't shown up with their prepared notes. The snack machine ate his dollar. His soda had no carbonation. He was sure his phone company had overcharged him this month. He'd stepped in gum. And the final straw: Motoki had the day off, so Mamoru couldn't even drown his sorrows in a free milkshake. 

So he sat wallowing in the corner booth, arms folded, grouchily watching the ignorant patrons go about their blissful little lives. 

He was just hoping that a youma would show up and put him out of his misery when the arcade doors swung open and in walked a chipper blonde, singing a song to herself with a giddy smile on her face. 

Mamoru seethed, finding himself strangely jealous of that smile. How come she always had to be so damn happy? He bet that Usagi never had bad days. It wasn't fair. As she approached the counter, her happiness not even faltering when she heard that Motoki wasn't there, Mamoru's mind focused on one objective and one objective only: make her as miserable as he was. 

It was stupid, he knew. But something inside of him felt like maybe knocking her down a rung or two on the emotional ladder would make him feel better. Just a little. 

Standing from the booth, he sauntered over to her and claimed the stool at her side just as she received a milkshake from a waitress. "Sale at the candy store, Odango Atama?" he drawled to catch her attention. Instantly, those glowing blue eyes turned to him, the smile still in place. 

"What makes you ask that, Mamoru-baka?" 

"What else could make a glutton like you so happy?" 

Obviously ignoring the insult--_assuming she even knows what a glutton is_--Usagi twirled around on her stool, her streamers of hair spinning around her. "Nope, no candy sale. I'm just having a wonderful day!" 

"Oh really? And what, pray tell, has made it so wonderful?" 

Usagi inhaled a deep breath and began to prattle, counting off on her fingers, "I woke up early enough to have waffles, my brother was nice to me, it stopped raining _right_ as I was leaving my house and I saw a rainbow on my way to school, I didn't get detention, Makoto shared her lunch with me, our math quiz was pushed back to tomorrow, I found ten dollars in my locker that I'd forgotten all about, and the new Sailor V manga comes out tomorrow so now I'll actually be able to afford it!" She grinned brightly at Mamoru, as if inwardly willing him to share her enthusiasm. 

He almost gave in. Her smile was contagious. He felt a clenching in his stomach and had to force himself to remember all of the pain and insult and trauma he'd been through that day. So, rolling his eyes, he said, "Those are all stupid reasons to be happy!" 

Usagi blinked, her smile falling into confusion. "Oh? And why are you in such a bad mood today, Mr. Grinch?" 

Mimicking her, Mamoru began to count off on his fingers: the coffee, the mismatched socks, the gum, and everything tiny, miniscule thing he could think of that had made the day as bad as it had been. She listened patiently until he'd finished, then teasingly rolled her eyes just as he had done to her. "Mamoru, those are all stupid reasons to be upset. Now, look," she said, tapping his chest to make her point, "life is made up of the little things. And you can choose to look at the bad little things and be miserable, or you can choose to look at the good little things and be happy." 

Mamoru wanted to retort--he really did. How dare this girl, four years his junior, go about giving him advice on how to live? How dare she presume that his problems were trivial and unimportant and that it was his choice to be so unhappy? 

He tried to retort, opened his mouth, but then she was talking again and he found himself speechless. 

"Now, why don't you tell me one thing that was good today? Just one. Even if it's small. Even if it seems stupid." 

And maybe, he quickly realized though he hated to admit it, she had a point. He tried to process the day in a different light. Tomorrow, looking back, what would he remember about today? Would anything stand out enough to make him look back and think what an awful day it had been? 

No, he finally conceded. But maybe there was one thing that would make him look back and think of what a good day it had been, when all was said and done. 

"Well?" she prompted. 

Sighing, Mamoru felt his nerves crumble and his shoulders slump beneath the weight of her own irrational wisdom. "One thing?" 

"One thing." 

Reaching into his wallet, he pulled out enough money to pay for her milkshake and threw it on the counter. Without the courage to look into her eyes, he shrugged and mumbled, "You." 


	25. 94 Fan Club

Still from UsakoMamoru... and now all 100 themes have been posted! Get your pens out, dear writers!

94. Fan Club  
Alicia Blade  
1102 words 

"Are they gone yet?" 

Motoki stopped what he was doing, briefly surveyed the arcade, then stepped back from the counter and peered underneath at his best friend who was crouched between the ice cream freezer and the bins of extra soda glasses. 

"Yeah, they're gone." 

Breathing a sigh of relief, Mamoru slowly uncurled himself and crept out of his hiding place. He stood up with a long stretch, his back having begun to ache from his twenty-minute stowaway excursion. With a few pops in his shoulder blades he felt the stiffness melt away. Shaking his feet, he was relieved to feel the pins and needles fading as the blood returned to his limbs. 

"Good afternoon, Mamoru-san!" 

Mamoru froze, all tenseness and ill-feelings returning. Without turning around, he shot an icy glare at Motoki, who shrugged innocently. "Except that one." 

Groaning audibly, Mamoru turned toward the voice and plastered on a cool smile. A girl was leaning provocatively over the counter, big black curls falling over her shoulders and long lashes fluttering flirtatiously over amber-colored eyes. 

"Hello, Audrey."

"The rest of the girls went to that new chocolate shop across the street to buy you some truffles--you like truffles, right?" 

Mamoru did like truffles, but the thought of accepting such a gift from "the girls" made him queasy. "Sometimes," he amended. 

Audrey licked her glossy lips and her smile widened. "So while we're alone, I was hoping I could ask you some questions." 

Running a hand through his hair, Mamoru looked pleadingly at Motoki, who stood looking unashamedly amused at Mamoru's predicament. "Actually, Audrey, I have some things to get done today and better be go--" 

"Oh, it'll only take a second!" she chirped. "I only want to ask about your hopes and dreams and interests and goals and likes and dislikes and pet peeves and fantasies and favorite things and what makes you laugh and what makes you cry and..." 

"...and how you got to be such a jerk wad," interrupted a sarcastically-ditzy voice. "You know, all the normal fangirl things."

Mamoru and Audrey turned to see Usagi standing with a smirk on her face. Audrey's cheerful gaze quickly fell into a glare full of contempt, whereas Mamoru felt a hopeful flutter in his chest. 

"Oh, it's you," Audrey drawled. 

"Right back at you," Usagi said, though she covertly hid any signs of bitterness behind a friendly grin. 

"Don't you have some little kid game to play or something?" Audrey said, gesturing toward the arcade machines. 

Usagi shrugged and claimed the stool beside Audrey. "All in good time. There's a tradition to this, you know. First: get a free milkshake from Motoki. Second: call the baka a few choice names. And _then_ I'll go beat my high score on Sailor V." She smiled at Motoki, who immediately got to work on that milkshake, then turned to face Audrey again. "Now, don't you have something better to do than pestering our favorite egomaniac?" 

Seething, Audrey muttered through clenched teeth, "I'm waiting on some friends." 

"Oh, right, I was wondering where the rest of the cronies were today." 

As if on cue, four girls entered the arcade with linked arms, looking both excited and nervous. They approached the counter, taking shy looks at Mamoru--who was wondering if anyone would notice if he conveniently crawled back into his hiding place. 

"Here, Audrey," said a blonde girl with a toothy grin, handing a gold-wrapped package to Audrey. 

Having to force herself to ignore Usagi for a moment, Audrey stood from the stool, flipped her curls over one shoulder, batted her lashes at Mamoru, and ceremoniously held out the package. "Mamoru-san," she said sweetly, "this is for you. It's a gift that symbolizes all of our complete adoration and commitment to you, from the Green Jacket Girls, your devoted fan club." 

Usagi snorted loudly and didn't try to conceal her rolling eyes as Mamoru, feeling all the weight of social etiquette pressing down on him, slowly reached forward and took the package, even though it was just about the last thing he wanted to do. From the corner of his eye, he saw Motoki desperately trying to contain his laughter.

"Uh... thanks."

The girls swooned in unison. 

"Okay!" said Usagi, clapping her hands of imaginary dirt, "Now that we got the sacrificial gift out of the way, can you leave the poor sap alone?" 

Audrey folded her arms. "You're just jealous because Mamoru-san likes us!" she said with false certainty. 

"Hate to say it, but I think you might be confusing affection with politeness. Besides, why anyone would ever want Mamoru-baka to like them is completely beyond me. Oh, thanks, Motoki-onii-san!" Usagi happily accepted the proffered chocolate milkshake. "Now then," she said after taking a long gulp of the dessert, "you came, you ogled, you drooled, you swooned. Now scram before I sick Makoto on you." Usagi gestured over her shoulder and the Green Jacket Girls all turned to see a booth full of Usagi's best friends watching with keen amusement. Makoto popped her knuckles. 

"Fine," Audrey spat. "But one of these days Mamoru is going to realize how much he appreciates us in his life and then you'll be the one ogling and swooning from the sidelines." 

"I can't wait," Usagi mumbled. 

With a few more coy glances in Mamoru's direction, the fan club slowly meandered out of the arcade. By the time the doors were closing, Usagi could already hear their shrill cries of "Oh my god, he's so cute!" and "I think he winked at me... or maybe it was a twitch..." and "If he got any more gorgeous I would just _die!_" 

Shuddering, Usagi swiveled on her stool to face Mamoru, who was looking at her with an appreciative, dazed grin. 

"Thanks." 

Usagi shrugged as if to say it had been nothing. "Someone's got to watch out for you. If I let them get carried away, I'm sure they would clobber you over the head and drag you back to their cave, and then who would I have to argue with every day?" 

Mamoru's smile widened and he leaned against the counter, looking a hundred times more comfortable and relaxed than he had been a moment before. "Well, whatever your reasoning, how about some chocolate as a show of my gratitude?" 

Usagi eyed the gold-wrapped box hungrily. Just as she reached one hand forward, she looked up at Mamoru with a mischievous smirk. "Careful, baka. Keep this up and I might have to join that fan club." 

She was too busy devouring a cherry cordial to notice Mamoru's reddening face. 


	26. 8 Kiss

8. Kiss

Alicia Blade

1655 words (yeouch!)

Even years after the fact, Usagi would look back and declare stubbornly that it was_not _her fault.

She should not, could not, be held responsible.

Her actions were against her will. No one could possibly blame her for something so ordained—so utterly impossible to avoid.

She hadn't really meant to.

It had just... happened.

But let's be honest with ourselves. What would you, dear reader, have done? Can you honestly claim you could have done it any different? If he had looked at you like he looked at her, if he had been as close to you as he had been to her, if he had said something so full of vague passion to you as he had to her, could you have turned and walked away? Could you have yelled at him? Insulted him? Pretended he was only being cocky and arrogant? Or would you have hoped, as Usagi did, that his words were somehow honest and revealing and unforgettable?

Could you, could anyone, have avoided the irresistible lure of his eyes, his voice, _him?_

Arguably, no.

And neither could she.

And that was why Usagi refused to acknowledge that it was in any way her fault that she had kissed Chiba Mamoru.

He had practically asked for it.

Destiny had definitely foreordained it.

From the moment Usagi had woken up that morning to a windowsill overflowing in white powdery snow—the first of the season—she'd known that something was going to happen that day. Something big. Something life-altering.

She'd dressed the part, taking her nicest wool mittens from the bottom of her sock drawer and slipping into her white angora turtleneck that felt like wearing a cuddly teddy bear.

School had been cancelled, and there was no other choice for a socialite girl but to go to the arcade. Yet another piece of evidence that fate was guiding the day. That she had no control.

The arcade was warm and had the familiar scents of coffee and vanilla and leather seats and game machines in need of dusting. It now also had a very strong aroma of hot cocoa, which is what prompted Usagi to order one. And just as the curl of melting whipped cream touched her lips, a new scent—equally familiar, equally delicious—struck her.

Cologne. A spicy cologne with hints of pine and sandalwood. She closed her eyes and breathed it in above the almost overwhelming scent of the cocoa and she knew that he was there. The butterflies in her stomach were already fighting to escape. A rush of blood swept over her cheeks. A warm tingle enveloped every nerve.

She bit her tongue against an excited hum and opened her eyes. He'd taken the stool next to her—possibly because every other stool was taken. Which was destiny, of course, because destiny was controlling everything that day, and Mamoru was no exception. Usagi looked at him from the corner of her eye, recognizing that something was hanging in the air; something drastic and powerful was about to happen, in that day of days.

He'd dressed the part, having discarded the popular green blazer for a heavy black leather jacket and a long gray scarf that swung past his knees and made his eyes look even, impossibly, bluer.

Those eyes turned to hers suddenly and Usagi involuntarily took in a hasty breath, straightening her back and setting her mug down on the counter.

"Yes, Mamoru-baka?" she snapped, anxious to get to familiar territory before that piercing look drove her to do something inappropriate and unprecedented.

It didn't help. Mamoru, for once, didn't take the bait. Instead, his lips quirked, just a little. "Snow day?"

"Ever the observant one." She made the sarcasm as heavy as she could. It was a natural armor. In fact, it was a natural armor that she'd picked up from Mamoru, the King of Sarcasm himself. She justified it by telling herself it was only giving him a taste of his own medicine. And normally he would match wit for wit. But this time, he didn't bite back. Instead, his thick eyelashes lowered and he turned away so that she was stuck watching his profile as he lifted a cup of coffee to his lips and sipped.

A nervous churning started up in her stomach as she found herself enchanted by the sight. She gulped and licked her lips, finding herself painfully jealous of that cup, desperately wanting to know what such a touch from him would feel like.

Slowly, he lowered the cup back to the counter and murmured, "Just making conversation, Odango."

She didn't flinch at the name. She rarely did anymore. If anything, she loved the sound more and more each time it passed his lips. But this time, the barely whispered endearment—if she could term it an endearment—brought a feeling of guilt intermingling with the flurry of desire and adoration.

"Mamoru..." she breathed, unsure if he heard it over the bustle of the arcade. She licked her lips again—instinctively.

But when he turned back to her, any signs of irritation were gone, replaced by a smile so warm, so open, that it sent Usagi's head spinning. Her hands tightened around the cup they held.

Why, why, why was he acting this way? Was there something in the air? Was it the snow? Was he always kind and charming on weekday mornings, when she was normally locked up in a stodgy classroom?

And in that fraction of a moment, that less than a gasp-filled second, Usagi had the overwhelming fantasy that this is what it would feel like if—

But no, she tried to shake it off, tried to ignore it, tried to forget that her imagination could ever conjure up such an impossible wish, but too late. It was there. It was unavoidable. This felt like—

Love. This felt like loving Mamoru. This felt like Mamoru loving her.

And it was peculiar and unusual and inevitable and took only the beat of her heart to infiltrate the very small sliver of Usagi's emotions that had been able to deny, up to that moment, that experiencing that love was exactly what she wanted.

And that was the part that was not her fault.

Because if she'd loved him, and he'd loved her, it would have been completely natural.

In a way, fate told her to.

And so when a moment later, Mamoru leaned just a little bit closer and whispered teasingly, "Odango, while I love the attention, your hot chocolate's going to get cold if you just sit there gawking at me all afternoon," she responded not by glaring or yelling or insulting, but rather by closing her eyes, leaning forward, and kissing him.

He stiffened. She stiffened. The fantasy fell away and Usagi sat back so quickly that she fell against the poor soul seated on the next stool over. She didn't notice. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes widened fearfully to find Mamoru staring at her with shock and bewilderment and—

She cried in spite of herself, a quick, stifled sob, before jumping to her feet and fleeing. Or trying to flee.

Fate had other ideas and just as soon threw a stool leg in her path and sent Usagi tumbling to the tile floor. Her knee burned from where it had scraped. Her wrists ached where they'd caught her. Between the physical pain and the mental terror of facing the man that she had so uninhibitedly thrown herself at, the sudden rush of tears came as no surprise. In another second she would have been running toward the doors again, if the unexpected hadn't happened.

She was picked up by two warm, large, gentle hands and cradled against a leather jacket and a cologne she had memorized and arms so encompassing that there was no other world so long as they were around her. Feeling mutually safe and scared, she began crying, hiding her face so far into the warmth of his sweater that she was sure he could feel the wetness leaking through to his chest.

"Odango, calm down," she heard him suddenly over the wave of pain caused by certain rejection. She shook her head, but then his hands were in her hair, forcing her to look up, to breathe, to face him, to see him. Smiling. To see him gently smiling down on her red, swollen eyes and running nose. "Calm down," he commanded again, losing his fingers in the air behind her ears.

"I'm sorry," she said shakily. "I didn't mean... I wasn't..."

"Don't."

The words caught somewhere in her throat.

"Don't apologize." His fingers tantalizingly stoked down her neck, barely caressed her cheeks, gracefully ran along the tips of her ears, and she noticed that he was sensing her—physically. Memorizing her. And the look in his eyes was recognizable. She'd felt that look. "Do anything you like," he whispered through slightly-trembling lips, "just don't apologize."

She somehow managed a nod before he kissed her and she melted and her arms found themselves around his neck—completely of their own will—and his arms were surrounding her again and his scent was intoxicating her and she knew what it felt like to be the cup he drank from and she knew it was worth envying as the soft, guiding pressure of his mouth left Usagi dizzy and faint and frantically wanting more.

No, as time wore on, Usagi would stubbornly refuse to acknowledge any fault of her own in that initial kiss. She'd had no control. She'd loved him much too deeply to ignore her need for him any longer than she already had. She held no responsibility for her actions at all.

But she once vowed that if she ever met the person, Fate, guardian angel, or deity who had caused such a momentous event to occur, she would owe them a _very _large and grateful favor.


	27. 96 Catch 22

This one is a bit more manageable length, though not nearly as... erm... emotional as "Kiss." ) Hope you like!

96. Catch 22  
Alicia Blade  
438 words

Tsukino Usagi is in love with Tuxedo Kamen.

It's common knowledge among all her friends, mild acquaintances, and, yes, even the occasional stranger. She makes no point to hide the fact. She collects his memorabilia, wears red roses in her hair, has mastered the Sailor Moon action game just so she can reach the level where he shows up, cuts newspaper clippings in which he is mentioned, and will sing his praises to the earth and heavens above if someone dares point out one of his possible (or even probable) faults.

What Tsukino Usagi doesn't know is that Tuxedo Kamen is me.

And she is most definitely not in love with me.

Though, admittedly, I might be a little bit in love with her.

In fact, when it first became blatantly obvious to me that she was so crazy about my alter ego, I was filled with an abundance of fantasies that seemed to contain so much potential. I thought that I could tell her the truth—she may not believe it, of course, but one magical rose ought to convince her. Or I could even go to her as Tux himself and proclaim my love and admiration and when she declared it back, I could whip off the mask and she would know then, once and for all, that Chiba Mamoru was not destined to be her enemy, but rather her ally, friend, and devoted, doting lover.

These fantasies lasted longer than they should have—at least six days.

There was a time when I had even made up my mind to do it. I was going to tell her who I was and watch as her eyes lit up and she threw herself into my arms and promised to be mine forever and ever.

But then a realization hit me. A very painful realization.

Sure, I knew that I could never possibly have Usagi without telling her I was the Tuxedo Kamen she loved so much. But in telling her that the man she loved so much was actually the man she held in such high disdain, her feelings for one would change, but not in the way I was hoping.

No, she would not fall in love with Chiba Mamoru. 

She would only turn her abhorrence toward the unlikely, incredibly disappointing Tuxedo Kamen.

At least this way, by staying silent, by loving her from afar, I'll always know she loves me. I'll always get to hear her dreamy sighs and watch her wistful smiles and know she is thinking about me.

Even if it's just a little bit of me. Even if she never knows.


	28. 14 Closet

Closet

Alicia Blade

509 words

Motoki felt his heart sinking down to his stomach the second Mamoru opened his mouth. For some reason that the world may never discover, Motoki had hoped that maybe this time, just like he had hoped every other time, Mamoru would be kind and friendly toward cute little Usagi, rather than mean and insulting. Motoki had hoped that this time he would be able to enjoy a quiet, peaceful afternoon in the arcade, rather than listen to the duo's bickering—for the fifth time that week.

And it was only Tuesday.

When would they ever learn?

"No, I did not fail a test today!" he heard Usagi scream, almost at the top of her lungs. Of course, not quite at the top of her lungs because then he and all of the arcade's patrons surely would have lost some percentage of hearing, but still, enough to make the blonde clerk cringe and silently curse Mamoru's stupidity. "Besides, you asked that question yesterday," the girl continued, decibels lowering slightly. "What, do you think I have a test every day or something? I'm in junior high, not college!"

Mamoru snickered. "Yeah, because lord knows you could never make it into a university. In fact, I'll be shocked if you even graduate from high school!"

The callous statement sparked a barrage of insults from the girl, mixed with the familiar terms of _arrogant, jerkwad,_ and the ever-popular _Mamoru-baka_.

The baka only laughed in response, even further igniting the girl's temper.

Finally, Motoki felt his patience crumbling and he tore off his apron and slammed it down on the counter—not wanting to be in his responsible employee role when he did what he was planning on doing.

"That's it, you two! You're both coming with me!" Rounding the counter, he grabbed each of the self-proclaimed enemies by their collars and dragged them toward an open broom closet beside the public restrooms.

"Now, this constant arguing has got to stop!" he chastised. "You both need to learn to be mature when you're in my arcade or my customers are going to stop showing up whenever you two are around—which is, incidentally, the busiest time of the day. So you're both going to stay in here until you can learn to talk like normal human beings, understa—aah!"

Motoki's lecture was cut short as his two captives simultaneously squirmed out of his grip, ducked beneath his arms, and shoved him into the closet.

By the time Motoki had stopped feeling stunned, the closet door had already been shut and locked.

"And you are going to stay in there until you learn that you can't lock us in a closet together!" he heard Usagi say through the door.

"Honestly, Motoki. What is this, the sixth time you've tried? When will you give up?"

With the momentary truce over, the two returned to their squabble, leaving Motoki alone in the closet. With a pathetic sigh, the arcade clerk buried his head in his hands with a growing sense of foolishness.

When would he ever learn?


	29. 18 Death

I started writing this as death, but afterwards realized it would probably have fit much better under nightmare. However, I'm sticking to the original inspiration, and so…

18. Death  
Alicia Blade  
259 words

He dreamt that he saw her lying in a coffin.

Her skin was ashen and dry and her face had become sallow where once it had been round and lively and smiling—always smiling. Her hair fell, matted, against the satin-lined box, no longer looking like spun gold. In her hands was a bouquet of bluebells. Brown and decaying, they, too, were once beautiful and now dead.

Mamoru awoke with a jolt, breathing hard and trembling, sweating and shivering as a night wind blew over his bedspread. Gasping for breath, he swung his feet over the edge of his bed and walked to the window, slamming it shut, hoping to keep out the chill. There he stood silent and alone, desperately trying to shake the horrific image from his mind. Desperately fighting back the tears that tried to escape. But he would not cry over a stupid dream, he continuously told himself. No, he would not cry.

She was alive. She was fine. And tomorrow, she would be smiling—always smiling.

When his heartbeat had returned to normal, he returned to his unwelcoming bed and, pulling the covers up to his chin, swore that tomorrow he would tell her he couldn't live without her. He would tell her that he would die if anything ever happened to her. He would tell her that he loved her.

But when morning came and she crashed into him on the sidewalk, giggling and smiling—_always_—he bit his tongue.

She was alive.

She was _fine._

And he didn't need a broken heart.


	30. 22 Christmas

22. Christmas  
Alicia Blade  
614 words

Anyone who knew Usagi would have expected her to come in the arcade, exactly two weeks prior to Christmas, wearing furry white mittens and a bright pink scarf, singing and skipping and going over her list of Christmas gifts to buy and ready to slurp up a steaming cup of hot chocolate. 

Which is precisely why it was so shocking when Usagi, instead, came into the arcade wearing furry white mittens and a bright pink scarf with an expression that looked something between angry resentment and heartbreaking depression.

Mamoru, who was sitting at the arcade waiting expectantly (and a little giddily) to see her cheerful countenance, felt his heart plummet as she sulked up to a booth and plopped down and folded her arms and said nothing to anyone until a waitress came by and she quietly ordered that hot cocoa.

Frowning uneasily, Mamoru looked around to see if Motoki was around to cheer the girl up, but the clerk was nowhere to be found, and so Mamoru found himself facing a disheartening decision: tease her in hopes of getting some spark of emotion, or kindly ask what was bothering her. And had it been any other time of year, he probably would have gone with the former option, but, call it the Christmas spirit, Mamoru chose instead to investigate her sadness beginning with a friendly hello.

Usagi's eyes flickered up to the man as he smiled—awkwardly—down on her. 

"What?" she mumbled with obvious irritation.

Sliding into the booth, Mamoru placed a hand beneath his chin and asked, "Odango Atama, don't you know it's almost Christmas?"

Her look of slight annoyance turned to one of bloody murder. "Of course I know it's almost Christmas, you jerk!"

Mamoru blinked in surprise, shocked at the fire in her voice. When he had re-gathered his composure, he wet his lips and cautiously leaned forward over the table. "Then why are you so upset?"

The girl turned her eyes away just as Mamoru thought he detected a trace of wetness in them. Her silence persisted for a long while and he was starting to feel certain that his detective-skills were severely lacking when Usagi finally answered, "I'm not getting a Christmas this year."

Quirking an eyebrow, Mamoru encouraged her to continue, and so she did, through increasing sniffles.

"My parents told us this morning that because they've done Christmas at our house every year since they were married, almost twenty years ago, and because it's exhausting and expensive and hard work, they thought that… that if one of our relatives wanted to do it this year they could, but that we weren't going to… to get a tree, or have stockings or put up lights or… or… or anything!" Usagi was outwardly crying now and Mamoru passed her a napkin to blow her nose with, his brow deeply furrowed as he racked his brain for some way—any way—to make this better.

(Two hours later) 

"Mamoru, this is perfect!" Usagi cheered, all signs of her previous sadness wiped away as she peeled a price sticker off of another brand new ornament and hung it up on Mamoru's brand new Christmas tree.

Chuckling, Mamoru watched her with a swelling heart as he broke some eggs into the frosting that would eventually hold together his first-ever gingerbread house.

And he realized as he looked around at the empty shopping bags and boxes littering his apartment floor that had recently held tinsel and twinkling lights and eggnog and stockings and wrapping paper that Usagi's parents were right. Christmas was indeed exhausting and expensive and a lot of hard work.

But her smile was so very, very worth it.


	31. 67 Weeping Willow

Well, while we're all waiting for the weekend to come and bring chapter 11 of LP with it, how about a handful of drabbles and a totally random songfic? Enjoy!

67. Weeping Willow  
Alicia Blade  
352 words

He could see her from his solitary perch on the park bench, where he'd sought a momentary respite from his morning jog. Not all of her, though, only what the weeping willow chose to show him in teasing glimpses. Its long, feathery limbs hung forlornly to the grass below and from time to time a breeze would sweep the pale green curtain away, revealing the curve of her pale calf, or a curl of her golden hair, or the graceful drop of her shoulder, or the toes of one bare foot curled into the clover beneath them.

For the most part she'd been lying down, and Mamoru had held his breath in anticipation for the waterfall of leaves to open up and show the waistband of her skirt followed by a fraction of pale midriff. Sometimes she would sit up and Mamoru watched with wide, unblinking eyes as her fingers threaded themselves with blades of grass. And once, only once, had the wind been kind enough to part the foliage enough to allow for a glimpse of her pink, sensual lips. But as the sight was torn harshly away from him again, Mamoru had a racing pulse and his skin felt hot and clammy in the still, dewy morning air.

He could hear her voice, but not well enough to make out what she was saying, and he thought she must be talking to herself, until the tree revealed her cat seated beside her, calmly licking a forepaw. And he could hear her laugh, sweet and light and sending warm chills over Mamoru's limbs. And when the tree opened up and he saw her leaning back and stretching her long, slender arms up over her head, he could not hear her sigh of contentment, but he knew it was there, and he knew exactly what it sounded like, and he couldn't help but feel calm and contented and happy himself.

He imagined that even the willow that always wept looked happy today, proud that, in spite of all the other trees, the girl had chosen to yawn lazily in its shade.


	32. 30 Business Card

30. Business Card  
Alicia Blade  
817 words

Sure, the arcade was normally crowded on a rainy weekday afternoon, but Mamoru had never seen anything like the throng of people he walked into that boring Tuesday.

Scratch that; the throng of _boys_ he walked into.

Frowning, he hustled his way through the crowd clustered around something at the center of the arcade's lobby, and most of whom were busy scribbling away on what appeared to be job applications. When Mamoru finally reached the center of the swarm, he was surprised (but not _too_ surprised) to see Rei, Ami, Makoto, and Minako all seated calmly at a long table, dressed in business suits with their hair tied back, calmly greeting and smiling and passing out those applications and little pink business cards. 

"What's going on?" Mamoru asked them, shoving his way to the table.

"Oh, Mamoru, how lovely to see you!" Rei chirped, simultaneously sharpening a pencil and passing some papers over to an enthusiastic boy without missing a beat.

"Now here's a good candidate!" said Minako, noticing the dark-haired man looming curiously over them. "Mamoru, take an application, okay?"

"An application for what?" he asked, ignoring the paper being slid his way.

"We're starting a business!" Makoto explained.

"What kind of business?" 

"A local dating service!"

Mamoru's eyebrows shot up. "A _dating_ service? As in… escorts?"

Makoto tilted her head back and guffawed at the idea—which hadn't seemed all too out of place considering the multitude of enthusiastic boys anxiously trying to get to the table.

"Of course not! We're only fourteen!" Makoto answered, wiping tears from her eyes. "Ami, tell him."

Ami looked up from her laptop on which she'd been busy transcribing information from one of the applicants, cleared her throat, and explained, "Since the invention of the World Wide Web, the business of dating has exploded on an international level. Today, hundreds of thousands of people all over the world are joining online dating sites and perusing Internet chat rooms in hopes of finding a romantic partner. Already it's become a multimillion dollar business. However, applicants must be 18 years of age or older to participate, but it's obvious that minors are just as intent on finding a partner as the adults, and so we've decided to tap into this widely ignored market, beginning right here in Juuban."

"We're going to make millions," Rei said, cupping her chin and staring dreamily into space.

"I see," Mamoru murmured, though his facial expression was nothing less than perplexed. "And how are you doing this, exactly?"

"Well, first we find an eligible bachelor or bachelorette, then we take applications, at 300 yen per applicant, from anyone who is interested in dating that person. We sort through the applications to find a suitable companion and, finally, set them up on a blind date."

"I see," Mamoru repeated, casting a wary glance at what must have been a hundred boys in middle and senior high school busily filling out the papers, and it suddenly occurred to him that something—or someone—was missing. "Wait… who are these guys applying to date?"

Smugly, Rei took her newly sharpened pencil and pointed it at a poster hanging on a nearby pillar that Mamoru had been oblivious to up until that point. His eyes widened as he saw a picture of Usagi winking in a purple polka-dot bikini. Below her picture was written, _Sailor Romances invites all men, ages 12 to 21, to apply for a once in a lifetime date with beautiful T. Usagi. Applications are 300 yen. See any SR representative for details._

As his jaw hit the floor, Mamoru leaned over the table and put his hand firmly down on the stack of quickly disappearing applications. "Does she know about this?"

"No," Minako with a patient smile, digging another stack of the papers from a snakeskin briefcase. "But she'll thank us in the end." 

"Here, Mamoru, take a business card," Makoto said, tucking one of their pale pink cards into Mamoru's breast pocket. "We could always use more eligible bachelors. I bet you'd get as many applicants as Usagi."

"And don't worry," said Ami, having returned to her typing, "we're _very_ picky about who we choose."

After glancing at each of the girls with a mixture of disbelief, bitterness, and—he would admit—slight admiration for their brilliance, Mamoru grabbed both stacks of applications and stormed back toward the doors of the arcade, snatching the papers away from every applicant within arm's length on his way out.

Shaking her head sadly, Minako reached into the briefcase and brought out yet another stack of papers. "I don't know why he didn't just stay and fill one out. He had a good chance of getting picked."

Rei shrugged and smiled as a boy handed her his completed application and a few yen. "Oh, you know Mamoru. He has to do everything the hard way."


	33. 26 Telephone

Thanks to Sunsetecho (sorry, don't know your fandom name!) for giving suggestions on this one. 26. Telephone  
Sequel to Business Card  
Alicia Blade  
383 words

"This one looks good," said Rei. "Age: 19. Occupation: student at Azabu. Enjoys rose gardens and classical music."

"Oh, I just saw another one from an Azabu student," added Minako, shuffling through her stack of applications. "Here it is. Also 19; likes playing video games and buying chocolate shakes for pretty girls."

"Sounds like a match made in heaven," laughed Makoto. "You know, that's the fourth one I've seen mention video games. Like this one—could spend hours on the Sailor V game (high score surpassed only by the lovely T. Usagi). Hey, he's also a freshman at Azabu."

"I didn't realize Usagi had so many fans in the University," Ami said with a sly grin. "Look at this one: doesn't mind watching chick flicks, a romantic at heart, has a tendency to come off sounding like an idiot when talking to Oda sweet girls." Furrowing her brow, Ami looked up at the rest of her business companions. "Let me see those. Find every application from a 19-year-old at Azabu."

Soon, the applications (totaling over 75) had been sorted through and about a third of them set in front of Ami, who was frowning at them suspiciously.

"Look how similar their handwriting is," Mina remarked.

"Yeah," said Ami with a snort, "not to mention their phone number."

The girls exchanged glances.

"You don't think…"

"Who else would it be?"

"But twenty-five applications?" 

"He did steal all those when he stormed out."

"Did I call it or did I call it?"

"They all have different names though. How do we know for sure it's him?"

"Only one way to find out."

Rei picked up a nearby telephone and dialed the number on the applications. A moment of silence passed, before Rei sat up and summoned her best sales-pitch voice.

"Hello, is this…" She scanned the nearest application. "…Shibue Jyoji? Hi, my name is Rei and I'm calling from Sailor Romances. I wanted to congratulate you on being chosen for our first blind date with the beautiful Tsukino Usagi. Are you free this Friday at seven? Great, we'll send you a gift certificate for the restaurant and make your reservations. Thanks and enjoy your date!"

Rei hung up the phone with a haughty grin. "Oh yeah, it's definitely Mamoru."


	34. 70 For the Love of Money

Thanks to Sunsetecho again!

70. For the love of . . . money  
Sequel to Telephone  
Alicia Blade  
454 words

"You did _what?_" Usagi screamed.

Inhaling a patient breath, Minako explained again. "We started a local dating service in which we advertise a complimentary date with one pretty girl and boys within a certain age group can put in applications to be set up on a blind date for 300 yen each. Then we go through them and figure out which one is the best match and set them up."

"And you were the lucky girl chosen for blind date number one!" added Makoto cheerfully.

"And when were you planning on telling me this exactly?" Usagi said with a scowl.

"We just did!" 

Rolling her eyes, Usagi threw her hands angrily into the air. "No! No way am I going on a blind date with some loser who paid 300 yen to put in an application. That's… I mean, it's just sad!" 

"It wasn't just one loser, Usagi-chan. Actually, you were very popular."

Usagi glared at Ami. "How did they talk you into this anyhow?"

"Actually, it was kind of her idea," Rei said with a pleased chuckle.

After shooting her scowl at the priestess, Usagi slowly turned back to her genius friend. "Exactly how popular was I?"

"Over 75 applications."

Usagi's jaw dropped. "75? 75 boys want to date _me_?"

"Shocking, isn't it?" Rei said, rolling her eyes, and being promptly met with a smack in the arm from Makoto.

"And the one we picked looks _really_ promising," Minako pressed on, waving the winning application in front of Usagi.

Grabbing the paper, Usagi read, "Age: 19. Occupation: freshman at Azabu. Enjoys sharing milkshakes, riding his motorcycle, taking walks on the beach, cooking, and writing poetry. Hm. He does sound good, doesn't he? But how come his name has been blacked out?"

"It's called a blind date, Usagi. We don't want you to know who he is!"

"You mean I know him?"

"Well… um… no. We don't know. Maybe. But we don't want to risk that."

Heaving a sigh, Usagi crumpled up the application and threw it at Minako's head. "You guys really should have asked me first!"

"We were afraid you wouldn't agree."

"Exactly!"

"But what if you meet someone you really like?"

Folding her arms, Usagi simmered angrily, thinking—she didn't _want_ to meet someone she would really like. In fact, there was only one guy she wouldn't have minded being set up with, but how was she supposed to explain _that_ to them?

Though, come to think of it, he was a freshman at Azabu... and rode a motorcycle...

She shook her head, her cheeks burning. _Tough luck. Like Mr. Perfection himself would ever need to subscribe to a dating service._

"No. I'm not doing it. I refuse. You'll just have to find someone else! Why don't one of you go on this date?"

"That wouldn't look very professional," Makoto said with a sigh. "Come on, Usagi. It'll be fun! At the least, you'll have a great story to tell!"

"How about if we split the profits with you?" urged Minako.

"And how much would that be?"

"After the cost of the date and overhead such as printing applications and business cards, it would come to about 4000 yen each."

Scrunching up her nose, Usagi raised her eyes to the ceiling for a silent moment, before finally letting out a long breath. "Make it 4500 and we have a deal. And if the date is a total bust, I want 5000." 

"Deal!"

"But I'm still mad." Harrumphing to prove her point, Usagi stormed out of the arcade, not noticing the blue eyes that followed her to the door.


	35. 55 Panic

So I was about half way through writing this when Desperado (the Eagles) came on the radio and I was like "That's it!" Ha. Who knew?

55. Panic  
Sequel to For the Love of Money  
Alicia Blade  
667 words

7:06. I've been sitting in my car for over twenty minutes. Sure, I was early, but did she have to be late? My palms are sweating on the steering wheel that I can't seem to let go of. The key is in the ignition. Some ironically moody song is playing on the radio.

_Desperado, why don't you come to your senses?_

I figured the music gods must be laughing at me. I figured I probably deserved it. The sky was drizzling, blurring my view of the restaurant through my rain-splattered windshield. 

What if she didn't show? What if she left when she discovered it was me? What if I couldn't bring myself to get out of the car?

7:07. And there, through the darkness and the orange of the streetlights and the glow from the candle in the restaurant's windows and the rain and the cold, two streamers of gold hair come walking down the sidewalk, slowly, painfully slow. Her pink face—from what I can see through the Monet on the glass—is filled with apprehension. I note a full-length skirt beneath a heavy, mismatched raincoat with a fur-trimmed hood. Her little hands are clutched together.

She's so pretty.

She walks right past my car and through the door of the restaurant and I sit there, my teeth clenched, my stomach twisting, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.

I must be crazy. I must have been crazy to fill out those applications. It's just that the thought of her with someone else makes me dizzy with envy. When did that happen?

_And freedom, oh freedom, well, that's just some people talkin'.  
Your prison is walking through this world all alone._

7:08. I can't get out of the car. I can't even release the wheel or turn off the radio or turn on the window wipers. I'm frozen. The heater is on and the car is starting to get too hot and I wonder what she's doing right now. Has the maitre d' told her that her date hasn't arrived? Is she looking around the restaurant, wondering why he's late? Is she feeling rejected, nervous, scared?

A little like I'm feeling, but it must be worse for her. Not knowing. The not knowing must be hard. Looking into every face that walks by and wondering if he's the one.

But I can't go to her, even now. What if she laughs? What if she refuses to stay?

What if she doesn't feel the same?

But what if she does?

_It may be raining, but there's a rainbow above you._

My breath is quickening and I shut my eyes and hang my head, ashamed at myself. Ashamed of my weakness. Ashamed of my fear. Ashamed because even now I could be hurting her—and this time she doesn't even know it's me.

But I don't think I can do this. My heart is racing. The back of my neck is beginning to sweat; is it the heat? The rain is louder than the radio, pelting the roof of my car, the thin barrier between me and the real world.

I can't do this. I can't do this. I just can't do this.

7:09. I reach for the key and turn on the engine. I reach for the headlights and light up the dark street. I turn on the wipers and brush away the veil of water just as the restaurant door opens and I see her emerge, crestfallen. Disappointed. Has she given up so easily? So soon? 

Smart girl. How long would I have made her wait?

She stops in the spotlight of my car and holds up a hand to fend off the invading brightness and squints through the window and I can't tell if she recognizes me or not.

But my god, she's beautiful. 

Inhale. Turn off the lights. Turn off the wipers. Turn off the car. Open the door. Go to her.

_You better let somebody love you, before it's too late._


	36. 23 Valentines

And one more V-Day gift. Thought I should get this one out of the way before another year went by. A little bittersweetness for the holiday. Wishing you loves of all types!

23. Valentines  
Alicia Blade  
723 words

It was a secret he would never tell a soul.

He could just imagine the look on Motoki's face if he knew the truth. He could already hear the laughter ringing throughout the arcade. He knew that the confession would haunt him through life and follow him to an early grave. He would rather die then have a single person in the wide world know his true disposition on the matter.

It was such an overbearing, sinful pleasure that he often tried to convince even himself that it wasn't true.

So when Usagi slid into the booth—_beside_ him for once—and inched close to his shoulder and batted those long lashes in his direction and whispered in a sweetly conniving voice, "I know your secret," Mamoru thought for sure the world had ended.

He held his breath and stared back at her, all pale and blue eyes and thumping heart, and thought for sure the hanging hearts and pink steamers and plastic roses surrounding them were beginning to close in. He was suffocating in the sheer magnitude of Valentine's Day—and of her. Still smiling impishly. Still batting those lashes. Still unimaginably, unfairly close.

He cleared his throat and tried to force himself into the crate-papered wall and out of his misery, but the wall didn't budge.

"Wh—what are you talking about, Odango?" If it hadn't been for the stammering and sweating and wide-eyed deer in headlights look, he was sure it would have come off as quite smooth.

Her smirk grew and she cooed in that sultry little voice, "About Valentine's Day."

_How did she know? How did she know? How could she_ possibly _know?_

He'd been so nonchalant. So discreet. Not even Motoki had a clue, and Motoki knew _everything! _

"V-Valentine's… Day?"

"Mmmhmmmm…" she drawled, relaxing her chin into the palm of her hand and tapping one finger idly against the side of her perky mouth. "So confess." 

He zipped up his lips and shook his head. No way was that quirky smile getting to him again. Not today. Not now. Not with something so _important._

"Oh, come _on._" She paused and huffed, before her eyes began to twinkle ominously again. "I have a secret, too. If I tell you mine, will you tell me yours?" 

_Oh,_ damn _her. Must resist temptation. Must resist temptation. Must resist—_

"Okay."

Mamoru cringed. What was he, suicidal?

Usagi lowered her eyes to the table and seemed to be pondering something for a moment, before inhaling a slow breath and quietly murmuring, "I don't like Valentine's Day at all."

Mamoru had to force his jaw from dropping, but there was no stopping his eyes from bugging. "You what? But… but you've been so excited the last few weeks! Hell, you're wearing a skirt with hearts all over it."

She nodded whimsically, but did not smile. "It's true. I'm a fraud. I just figure it fits more with my character to act like I love the holiday, but I don't. Not really."

"Why not?" 

Pushing some confetti around the table with her fingernails, she answered, "I'm not sure. I used to really like it. But… I guess I just filled it up with too many dreams that never came true." 

Lowering his gaze, Mamoru felt grimy and scummy and dreaded the next words out of her mouth.

"Your turn, now. Confess." 

He sighed, his shoulders drooping, and mumbled half-heartedly, "I love Valentine's Day."

There was a moment of the world closing in again, before a gentle nudge in his side urged him to look up, and she was smiling impishly again, and he was blushing.

"I know. You're really good at hiding it, but I could tell."

"Don't tell Motoki, okay?"

She laughed. "I won't. But you have to tell me—why?"

He thought about it a moment, watching her curious blue eyes on him, and chose his words carefully. "It's the only day of the year that I ever fill up with dreams."

Her smile turned dreamy. "Do they ever come true?"

And if it had been a movie or a romance story, he would have kissed her while she was sitting there all lashes and odangos and pink-hearted skirts. He considered it, even, briefly—her little lips were still turned up, beckoningly, almost hopefully.

"No," he finally answered. "Not yet."


	37. 21 Mischief

Yes, I am still working on these. Almost half way!

21. Mischief  
Alicia Blade  
1,114 words

"What is _wrong_ with you today?" Mamoru cried, unable to hide his irritation any longer.

Motoki seemed unfazed, however, his mood just as sulky and listless as it had been since Mamoru had sat down at the counter nearly five hours ago. Mamoru had first thought he must be imagining things—Motoki was _never_ in a bad mood. Then he thought he definitely wasn't imagining things, but it was probably something trivial, so he'd attempted to take Motoki's mind off of whatever it was by ordering more food and coffee than usual and keeping his friend busy with work. But the clerk only sighed and moved about at a snail's pace and messed everything up. He overcooked the bacon, undercooked the eggs, and only filled Mamoru's coffee cup half way before seemingly losing interest and motivation and setting the pot down on the counter for Mamoru to finish the job himself. More and more uneasy, Mamoru had set to the task of bringing up every different topic of conversation he could think of: sports, politics, religion, the latest hit TV show, pop group, and Broadway musical. Nothing elicited more than a grunt of agreement or an unconcealed sigh.

"Nothing," Motoki murmured, his eyes peering sadly at the tile floor.

"Oh, please. You've been moping around like some poor lost soul all afternoon. You're never like this. What's going on?"

"You don't want to know."

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "You're my best friend," he mumbled with that feeling of unease that came with any confession of fondness, "of course I want to know."

"It's a girl problem."

"Never mind, you were right. I'm sure you can work it out on your own."

"I want a girlfriend." 

Mamoru groaned. He should have known that being nosy would inevitably lead to talking about girl problems. And he _hated_ talking about girl problems.

"Oh, _please._" The sarcasm couldn't be helped. Sure, Motoki had only ever had one girlfriend since they'd been friends, but that was due to a lack of effort on Motoki's part, nothing more. Well, that and maybe an abundant amount of ignorance regarding dozens of girls' affections for him. "Is that really what's been bothering you all day? For God's sake, Motoki, if you want a girlfriend, go get one."

"You say it like it's so easy."

"It is easy. You pick a girl you like, buy her dinner a few times, and voila, you have a girlfriend. There. Problem solved, next question."

Motoki sighed and folded his arms on the counter, resting his head on them and pouting. "But how do I find one I like?"

"You just _pick_ one. If it turns out you don't like her after all, you break up and try again. This is dating, not rocket science. Now cut out the whining and the excuses. If you really want a girlfriend, you can get one."

But Motoki did not perk up or nod or even put up further argument, just huffed and pouted some more.

"_Fine,_ I'll help you," Mamoru said with the utmost irritation and spun around on his stool to survey the arcade. A handful of kids were loitering by the crane games, an elderly couple was sharing a banana split at the other end of the counter, three high school boys were challenging each other at DDR, and one booth was occupied by five girls that were all too familiar. Mamoru smirked. All single, all pretty, and Makoto and Minako undoubtedly had crushes on Motoki anyway. "There," he said, pointing. "Five available girls. Pick one."

Motoki creased his forehead and peered at the chattering girls. "Usagi's friends?"

"Sure, why not? They're nice and fun to be with and you already know them, right? What else do you want?"

And to his complete astonishment, Motoki looked as though he might actually be considering it. In fact, after a moment of contemplation, Motoki even looked pleased by the idea. And it was then that Mamoru began to wonder if maybe this was a very bad idea after all.

"But then, they are younger than us, and therefore slightly on the immature side, and you may not have much in common with—"

"No, no, you're right. How come I never thought about it before?"

Well, at least the sulking and pouting was done with.

"So, just ask her out to dinner, you think?"

Mamoru rolled his eyes. "That's all."

"Do you think she'll mind if I do it in front of her friends?"

"Nope."

"Okay, I'm going. Wish me luck."

"Whatever."

He watched as Motoki threw an unused dishrag down on the counter—with conviction—and walked out toward the girls. Shaking his head, Mamoru leaned back on his elbows, wondering which one Motoki would choose. He figured Makoto was the most likely, as she was such an excellent cook, but Minako stood a good chance too as she was so bubbly and happy, and Motoki definitely liked bubbly and happy.

"Hi girls!" he greeted and was met with a round of cheery hellos. "Hey, um… Usagi-chan, I was wondering if I could ask you something."

Mamoru blanched and tumbled off his stool with a startled yelp. Motoki and the girls turned to him in surprise as he fumbled to climb back onto the seat.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine! I'm fine!" Inhaling a breath to steady himself, Mamoru glanced at Usagi who was watching him with equal parts concern and mocking. He took a moment to give her his best unhappy glower, before strutting toward them, grabbing Motoki harshly by the arm, and dragging him back to the counter, loudly proclaiming, "I just remembered I have something very important to discuss with you!"

"What are you doing?" the clerk hissed once they were out of earshot of the girls. "I was just going to—"

"No! _She_ is off limits!"

Motoki blinked, then straightened his back and suspiciously quirked an eyebrow. "And why is that?" he drawled. 

"It doesn't matter, she just is! And besides, I… I…" Mamoru resigned himself. "I know this girl from school. If you want a girlfriend that bad, I'm sure I can hook you up with her. I think you'd really like each other."

At first Motoki said nothing and Mamoru found his anxiety growing with every silent moment, strangely terrified that Motoki might be really set an Usagi. But then his friend shrugged and smiled—albeit teasingly. "Fine," he said, and moved back toward his haven behind the counter, leaving Mamoru to release a huge breath of relief. "By the way…" Mamoru swung around to see his best friend watching him with a proud grin. "…you totally walked right into that one."


	38. 52 Protector

52. Protector  
Alicia Blade  
527 words

When I'm wearing the mask my existence is to protect Sailormoon. That is my one calling, my only purpose, my sole intent. Never have I become distracted or discouraged from this ultimate goal. Never have I paused or hesitated. I exist only to protect _her._

But for the first time while donning the mask something else—someone else—entered the scope of my thoughts and sent my mind whirring and my heart thumping and my blood pounding, and the transition was so unusual and terrifying that I nearly lost my grip on the tree branch I clung to for balance.

Usagi was standing in the park, almost directly in the line of sight of the Negaverse monster, and seemingly had no intention whatsoever of running away. In fact, she looked downright determined to stay standing right where she was, leveling the youma with a determined glare. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was about to _taunt_ the thing. 

"Odango Atama!" I cursed beneath my breath and scanned the surrounding trees, relieved that Sailormoon hadn't yet arrived. Surely I had time to save both… didn't I? I couldn't just leave Usagi where she was.

_I couldn't._

The monster turned to her just as I leaped from the tree and scooped her into my arms. She cried out in surprise, but it was only a moment before we were safely tucked behind a large hedge, out of the monster's vision.

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama!"

"Are you crazy?" I hissed. "You could get killed! Now stay here. I'll take care of the monster but you _have to stay here._"

But it didn't seem as though she was listening. Her gaze was glued upon my masked eyes, a look of astonished delight on her delicate features. Then she fisted the front of my shirt in her hands and leaned toward me, nuzzling her nose up against my neck and shoulder. I froze, shocked, uncomprehending, completely forgetting my one and only purpose—all at that one naïve, unpracticed touch.

"Tuxedo Kamen-sama," she said, her voice light and feathery on my throat, "I love you."

The words pushed me off balance and I stumbled away from her, holding her at arm's length until I could regain my composure. But no, looking into her intensely sparkling blue eyes would not help the regaining of any such thing, so I quickly released her and spun to leave, my cape whipping behind me, but something made me pause and hesitate.

And I never paused and hesitated.

My heartstrings pulled. My body _begged._ I conceded.

Turning back to the girl, I pulled her against my chest and wrapped my cape securely around her petite form, molding her to me, pressing my cheek up against her hair and feeling her heart beating strongly against my ribs. She said nothing and did nothing, just let herself be held.

It was the most heavenly moment of my life, but it only lasted a moment.

When I released her, she was smiling sweetly, and did not bid me to stay or make her any promises. She seemed to understand that I had somewhere to be, something to do.

Someone to protect.


	39. 84 Glasses

Dedicated to Moko-chan (Leena-sama), who requested I write a drabble for Theme 99: Geek, but after writing it I thought it worked better for the Glasses theme. So eventually there will be another one for Geek. Yes. Happy geekiness.Enjoy.

84. Glasses  
Alicia Blade  
355 words

"You aren't going to believe this!" Minako squealed as she plopped down in the seat next to Usagi, waving a magazine in one hand.

"Wome beweave wuh?" Usagi mumbled through a mouthful of bento, hardly pausing in her crusade to down her lunch as quickly as humanly possible.

"I bought this magazine yesterday and was flipping through it and—" Minako paused for dramatic effect, but Usagi hardly seemed to be listening. "—Usagi, this is important!"

"Sho is bento."

Snarling, Minako flipped open the magazine and slammed it down on the table. Usagi took one look at the full-color spread and gagged, choked, and spewed her un-chewed rice onto the table. Minako grimaced.

"What is _he_ doing there?"

"I guess he wasn't kidding when he said he'd done some modeling before. Doesn't he look gorgeous?"

Usagi flushed angrily. "Great! Now he's even haunting my reading material? That man is a plague!"

"Maybe, but that is one sexy plague."

Usagi scrunched up her nose in disgust, but Minako was too busy ogling the picture of Mamoru to notice, silently appreciating the way faded jeans made him look casually hip while a black blazer gave him a hint of sophistication, but mostly how it was unbuttoned to reveal a perfectly sculpted, shirtless torso.

"How can you even think that about him? He's the most horrific, hideous, stupid, pigheaded… _geek_ on Earth!" To prove her point, Usagi seized a pen from her school bag and yanked the magazine from beneath Minako's attentive stare.

"Hey! Give it back! That's the most drool-worthy picture I've seen in weeks!"

"Absolutely not! I will not have you drooling over that jerk!" Usagi said, and quickly scribbled a pair of thick, square-rimmed glasses onto Mamoru's face before handing it back with flare.

Minako grabbed the magazine away and looked at the altered image—blinked, frowned, and cocked her head to one side. "That's odd. You know, I think he looks even better that way."

"What? You're crazy!" Usagi said, peering over her friend's shoulder in adamant disbelief.

Her pride quickly sank and she sat back, sulking.

She hated when Mina was right.


	40. 98 All's Fair in Love and War

Dedicated to Moko-chan (Leena-sama).

98. All's Fair in Love and War  
Alicia Blade  
544 words

She loaded the weapon with precision and grace, checked the latch to be sure the projectile was secure and ready, and held perfectly still against the fallen tree trunk. She could feel the weight of her ammunition supply pressing against her chest and hanging tightly on her hips and was grateful for the security it offered her. Inhaling a deep breath to steady her quickly beating heart, she chanced to peer over her shoulder, grateful for the dark green helmet that hid her gold-blonde hair and the face-paint that concealed her porcelain skin.

She spotted her prey crouched behind a crumbling stone wall that stood alone and dejected on the forest floor. From her hiding spot she could only spot his knee and a poorly camouflaged shoulder, but he was close by and she thought she had a good shot at him. He was preoccupied with his own weapon and clueless of her close proximity—she couldn't waste this perfect chance.

Setting her jaw, she slowly inched the barrel of the gun up and over the tree trunk and peered through the targeting scope. It took her a moment to find him, but soon his protruding shoulder came into focus beyond the crosshairs. A vindictive smile crept onto her lips as she squeezed the trigger.

"Ow!" Mamoru yelped as bright pink paint splattered onto his shoulder. His cry of pain was immediately followed by a cackle coming from an inconspicuous tree trunk. "Odango!"

Usagi's delighted laughter ceased at the anger in Mamoru's voice and she hastily pulled back her weapon and began scurrying on her stomach toward a shelter of shrubs. But she underestimated Mamoru's want for vengeance and soon felt a sting between her shoulder blades as a red paintball plopped onto her back. 

"Hey!" she cried, flipping over to see Mamoru standing haughtily on the trunk, peering down on her without a hint of remorse.

"What? You can dish it but you can't take it?" he taunted, at which Usagi's face flared to the same red as her paint-drenched clothes.

"Ooooh, you are so going down!" she threatened, before leaping up and lunging for Mamoru's legs. He dropped his gun and they both went tumbling over the log and a second later they were caught up in biting and clawing and pulling hair and trying to shove dried leaves down each other's throats.

"Gah, they're at it again!" Minako cried, standing up from her hiding spot amidst some tall weeds.

Motoki popped up beside her, his faced flushed with irritation. "It hasn't even been three minutes since the last time she tackled him!"

"I guess this is their way of working out their frustrations with each other," suggested Rei from the branches of a large maple tree.

"It seems to me," Amy said, peeking her head around the corner of a large tree stump, "that they might be using this as an excuse to touch each other."

They each cocked an eyebrow and suspiciously turned to the wrestling couple as Usagi wrapped her legs around Mamoru's waist while he tried to put her in a headlock. 

"Well, whatever the reason," said Makoto, emerging from a thick hedge and leveling her gun at the fighting couple, "they sure do make for easy targets."


	41. 16 behind the blue curtain

Sorry guys, I've been meaning to post these for weeks!

fyi, I'm officially posting any new drabbles to my bi-weekly newsletter before they go anywhere else. (So please subscribe if you want sneak peaks! The next issue goes out tomorrow, May 1.)

aliciablade dot com

Anyhow, enjoy!

**16. Behind the Blue Curtain****  
Alicia Blade  
752 Words**

"Miss Tsukino, you have already won a new sleep-number bed, a lovely cubic zirconium earring and necklace set, and ten _thousand_ yen."

Usagi felt like she was going to hyperventilate. Her ears rang with the voice of the game show host that boomed around the stage and the crowd squealing and cheering behind her. A glance over her shoulder showed that her four best friends were just as thrilled, all clapping and screaming and encouraging her.

She tried to take a deep breath, but the moment she did, the host's big hand clapped onto her back, knocking the air right out of her.

"And you can take those prizes home right now, Miss Tsukino. Nobody's stopping you."

She bit her lower lip and raised panicked eyes to the host, knowing what came next.

"_Or,_ you can trade it all in for… the mystery prize located behind the blue curtain."

Her head spun. The host coaxed her gaze back to the stage with a sweep of his arm, where a sea blue curtain hung suspended from the rafters. The crowd grew louder, chanting "Curtain! Curtain! Curtain!" Usagi tried her best not to faint.

"Now Miss Tsukino, you've seen the show before. You know that you have a 50/50 chance of discovering a fantastic prize behind that blue curtain. It could be a new car. It could be a trip to Paris. It could even be… a yacht." The crowd went wild. Usagi couldn't help but reach for the host and grasp his forearm in a claw-like grip to keep from tipping over on her unsteady feet.

"Or," the host sighed, "it could be a practical joke." His lips quirked up, eyes attempting sympathy and failing. Usagi could tell that he loved this part of the show. "_What_ is your decision?"

A giant clock began to tick over the stage. She had ten seconds to decide. Behind her the crowd continued to chant. She could even hear Minako above all the rest, urging her to take the mystery prize. Usagi felt her pulse rushing. Every limb trembled. The room had become little more than flashes of color in a blurred landscape. The ticking clock echoed in her head.

"I need your answer, Miss Tsukino."

"I… I…." she gulped, turning back to her friends. Their grins were nothing but encouraging. With another breath she squeezed her eyes shut and proclaimed, "I'm going with the blue curtain!"

The crowd burst into applause. The host's hand on her back gently pushed her toward the curtain. He was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. She managed to open her eyes, squinting into the stage's glaring lights. The producers knew how to create tension. The curtain before her shifted gently. The lights dimmed until the curtain was glowing and Usagi and the host were caught alone in a single spotlight. The crowd hushed.

"All right, Miss Tsukino. You've chosen the blue curtain."

"I know."

"Are you curious to know what's behind it?"

"Yes."

"Well before we show you, I'm going to give you a little hint."

"Okay."

"You have won… a date."

Usagi blinked, her mind spinning. "In Paris?"

The host chuckled; the crowd laughed along with him. Then, to whatever invisible stagehands ran the set, the host called out, "Let's show her what she's won!"

She held her breath as the curtain swayed and then was ripped to the side. Another single spotlight appeared on the other side, but it took a moment for her eyes to adjust. When they did, she screamed and clapped her hands over her mouth.

Dressed in a tuxedo and holding a dozen red roses, Mamoru looked nothing but composed as he smiled his cocky, lopsided grin.

Behind her, the women in the crowd were swooning and sighing. The cackles from her five friends carried above the chaos.

"Miss Tsukino, meet your date: Miiiiiister Chiba Mamoru!" the host proclaimed, simultaneously prying Usagi's grip off his arm.

Usagi could say nothing as Mamoru approached her and held out the roses, giving her no choice but to take them in her numbed arms. His eyes, every bit as blue as the curtain, glinted with some sort of demented joy—after all, there was no way he was _actually_ happy about this. Yet his smile grew larger as she gawked at him, speechless, until finally he leaned down so that his voice would not pick up on the mic wired in Usagi's clothes, and murmured against her ear, "You deserve more than cubic zirconium, anyway."


	42. 63 spring cleaning

63. Spring Cleaning  
Alicia Blade  
403 words

Mamoru had never seen a feather duster flicked back and forth with such enthusiasm, or such uselessness. He tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed in confusion, as he watched Usagi dawdle her way up and down the line of stools, humming to herself as her dainty little wrist swung that duster like no duster had ever been swung before.

Mamoru swiped his finger along the back of his own stool. It came away dust-free.

"Odango, what are you doing?"

She paused on her tiptoes at the end of the counter, arm reaching up to get to the top of the crane game, and turned to look at Mamoru over her shoulder.

"I'm dusting, you dingbat. What does it look like?"

"But why are you dusting?"

She took a moment to flurry the duster over the top of the crane game before turning to face Mamoru with the duster placed firmly on one hip. "Because Motoki said that I could have free milkshakes for a year in return for doing the arcade's spring cleaning."

"But they have employees for this sort of thing. This place is kept spotless."

Usagi hesitated, blinking her blue eyes at Mamoru for a moment of serious consideration, before shrugging. "I don't know. All I care about is the free milkshakes."

"Of course," he muttered to himself as she returned to the pointless dusting, working her way back along the linoleum counter. "So… what's with the French maid outfit?"

She paused again, arm extended to get behind the soda machine, allowing way too perfect a view of her slender neck, a hint of cleavage beneath the lace blouse, the tiny waist accentuated by a white frilly apron, and the flouncy skirt that barely reached mid-thigh, revealing smooth, strong, perfectly-curved legs. Mamoru ignored the heat rushing to his face, prayed that Usagi didn't notice his suddenly flushed cheeks.

"What do you mean? Motoki said this is what all the girls wear during spring cleaning." With that perfectly reasonable explanation, Usagi headed off to dust the game area. When he was able to pull his gaze away, Mamoru turned a disbelieving stare toward Motoki, who was standing behind the counter with a gigantic grin on his face.

"Motoki, why is Usagi dressed like a French maid?"

"Business, Mamoru. Our sales to teenage boys have tripled in the last week. And it isn't because of the new Street Fighter game."


	43. 61 advice

I am hosting a writing contest! Details will be available on my newsletter and my blog, to be released this Sunday (June 1 2008). To subscribe, visit aliciablade dot com.

61. Advice

Alicia Blade

984 words

"What is wrong with Mamoru?" Usagi whispered, leaning over the counter so that Motoki could hear her above the the beeping and ringing of arcade games.

Face contorting into a concerned frown, Motoki glanced over Usagi's shoulder at Mamoru sitting all alone in one of the far booths, cradling his fourth cup of coffee that day. With a shake of his head, he answered, "I don't know, Usagi-chan. He's been acting solemn for days now but he won't tell me what's bothering him."

"I know—I haven't heard the words 'Odango Atama' since last Thursday. At first I was happy about that but now it's making me nervous."

"I could be completely wrong about this, but..." Motoki leaned down, lowering his voice even further, "I wonder if it has anything to do with a girl."

Usagi's back straightened, her eyes widening as if Motoki had threatened to hit her. "A _girl_?"

Panicking, Motoki waved his hands and shushed her, but a quick glance in Mamoru's direction ensured that he had heard nothing. "Like I said, I have no way of knowing..."

But Usagi wasn't listening. She turned to face Mamoru, analyzing is dejected posture. His eyes that normally held such a gleeful sparkle—even if it was just because he loved to tease her—were now dark and overcast. She gulped, her heart twanging with a sudden ache.

She was not sad for herself, she quickly confirmed, with some effort. After all, what did _she_ care if Mamoru was interested in some girl? She was only sad for him. After all, he wasn't _such_ a bad guy... he deserved a little bit of happiness. Even with... some other girl.

"No, Motoki, I think you're right. It makes perfect sense."

"It does? I'm glad you think so because I'd been suspicious about it but didn't think... Usagi? Where are you going?"

She ignored Motoki, focusing only on steadying the breaths that filled her lungs and the legs that propelled her toward the far booth.

Mamoru didn't notice her until she had slid in across from him. His eyes flickered to her with surprise, and more than a little curiosity, but still there was no hint of the teasing glint in his eye or the mocking twitch of his lips. It was nothing if not unsettling.

"Usagi," he said in greeting.

_Not Odango?_, she thought with that odd twinge of heartache again. She pushed the emotion aside, took a deep breath, and said, "Mamoru, I am going to give you some advice."

One eyebrow quirked up. "Uh-oh."

She glared, but there was a giddiness in her stomach at this first sign of teasing she'd had from him in days. "Now, don't interrupt me, because this is important. It has recently come to my attention that you may have… _feelings_ for a girl."

Both eyebrows quirked up this time.

She held up one hand before he could protest, although there was no sign that he would. "Now, I am not an expert on dating or anything, but I _am_ an expert on girls, and so... I wanted to tell you... I think it best if..." She cleared her throat to unclog the words. "If you just... tell her."

Mamoru stared.

Certain that no words were forthcoming, Usagi continued, "Because girls like to hear when guys... especially smart... decent-looking... college guys..." She took in another breath, aware that her cheeks were turning bright pink and she was no longer able to hold eye contact, and yet she found that she simply could not keep her mouth shut, "...um, such as yourself... just happen to be interested in them. And, you know... maybe she even likes you back, whoever she is. And if she doesn't, well, maybe she will... once you tell her... But even if she doesn't, then at least you'll have gotten it off your chest, and you can move on. Because I, for one, am sick and tired of seeing you mope around here all the time, and... and... to be frank, I kind of miss the old you. And I want him back."

By the time she'd finished, every muscle in her body was clenched, her hands gripping each other in her lap, her teeth grating together, her stomach aching with nerves as she waited for him to respond.

His silence persisted. When she was able to take a full breath, she nodded her head, still unable to look up at him, and said, "All right, then, that's all I had to say. Um... good luck."

But the moment she had climbed out of the booth, a hand grasped her wrist. Heart snagging, she turned to see his blue eyes—a touch of their spark back—although a moment later he had dropped his gaze to the table. And a moment after that, his grip on her wrist loosened, only to allow his fingers to move down and entwine with hers. Her heart sped up until it was painful to feel it hammering against her chest, and she could not draw enough breath into her lungs.

He said something, but she couldn't hear it above the panicking voice in her head. "What was that?" she squeaked, desperately trying to calm herself before she passed out on the filthy linoleum floor.

Mamoru's gaze met hers again, looking more alive than it had in days—and more terrified than she'd ever seen it.

"I asked if you wanted to go to dinner tonight," he murmured. Every word sounded painful to say.

Usagi blinked. "Why?"

"Well... because..." He shrugged, the nervousness written into every movement, every expression. "Because you just... told me... that I should tell you how I feel..." His voice faded away and Usagi had to strain to catch the end of the sentence.

"Tell _me_ how you feel?"

He nodded with an uncomfortable shrug. "And I just don't think that the arcade is the right place to do that."


	44. 76 Family

I am hosting a writing contest! Details will be available on my newsletter and my blog, to be released this Sunday (June 1 2008). To subscribe, visit aliciablade dot com.

76. Family

Alicia Blade

439 words

He awoke in a cold sweat, gasping and panicking and desperately trying to recapture every image that was already flitting just out of reach. It was a dream that had spanned years, but was made up simply of moments. Flashes in time. A breath here, a blink there, until he feared that if he moved a muscle it would all fade away.

He remembered the wedding most vividly. It was the very first image the dream had showed him. All his friends were seated to his right, except Motoki who was at his side. And her family—such a big family—seated on his left. Everyone was so happy, but none more so than he. His heart was full to the point of exploding as he watched her coming down the aisle. There was a halo of light around her. And though she took her time on her long walk toward him, he could see in her face that she wanted nothing more than to run down that aisle instead.

And then there was a hospital bed, but he did not feel that same emptiness hospital beds normally gave him. He was not even thinking of the loss of his parents, or waking up all alone in the world. Instead, he was lying beside her, grinning like a fool, and brushing her sweat-drenched forehead with a cool washcloth. She was exhausted, her face flushed, but her relieved smile was almost as big as his. And then the nurse placed the tiny pink bundle in his arms and there was that heart-exploding feeling again.

And the dream continued. Watching the child get ready for her first day of school. Christmases spent at her grandparent's house, every adult in the room trying to spoil the child more than the others. And all the while, this golden-haired angel by his side.

And when she was grown, walking her down her own aisle, having to restrain her from running just as her mother had needed restraining. Sharing that first dance with her before passing her off to the newest member of the family, before turning back to the love of his life and pulling her toward him again.

There was more, he knew there was. He strained to grasp the pictures until there were tears building in his eyes, but they were gone. Exhausted, he collapsed back into bed, eyes squeezed tight, desperately trying to remember. To feel his heart expanding, filling, overtaking him just for one moment longer, as her beautiful face floated before him. Smiling. Always smiling.

It was the first night in years he had not dreamt of the princess.


	45. 88 Lazy Days

**I'm hosting a writing contest! See below for more information.**

88. Lazy Days

Alicia Blade

620 words

It was boggling to Mamoru's mind that of the thirty-nine benches in Juuban Park, only one of them happened to be in the shade at high noon in the dead of summer. And it was only worse—though expected—that as Mamoru approached that singular bench, his skin sticky, his throat parched, and his nose and cheeks stinging under the sun's rays, that bench was occupied.

If his mouth had not been so dry, he would have groaned in disappointment. Though the two-block trek through the park to the arcade normally seemed like a pleasant jaunt, today every step was torture, and that wooden bench so kindly placed beneath a giant eucalyptus tree had offered the only respite Mamoru had desired.

But no sooner had Mamoru relegated himself to dying of heatstroke and letting the vultures pick the meat off his bones, did he recognize the small form stretched out on that bench, in that shade, and an inkling of hope welled up inside of him.

Usagi had removed her black mary janes and white socks and discarded them on the ground beside her school bag so that one bare foot dangled off the end of the bench while the other hung over the side, the dirt from the path coating her toes. She had unhooked the top three buttons of her blouse to let a nonexistent breeze beneath the cotton. As Mamoru approached her, he could see a sheen of sweat on her legs and rosy pinkness along her arms and chest. Her lips were open as if waiting for raindrops to fall inside and one hand held a neatly folded piece of paper, fanning her face and collarbone with a vengeance, the small breeze it created gently stirring her damp bangs away from her flushed forehead.

"Odango Atama," Mamoru said by means of introduction as soon as he was in the shade of that heavenly tree, "if you stay out here much longer your odangos are going to melt."

She opened one eye to peer up at him, momentarily ceasing to fan herself. Then the other eye opened and she licked her lips, seemed to think for a moment, and finally let out a long, slow sigh. "I would come up with an excellent retort to that, Mamoru-baka, if it didn't take so much energy."

"That must be the epitome of laziness."

"What else can a person be on a day like this?"

His lips twitched and he watched as she shut her eyes and returned to fanning herself. "Move aside. You're taking up the whole bench."

Her only response was a low moan, so Mamoru unceremoniously picked up the one foot hanging off the edge of the bench and pushed it off to the side. Usagi whined and opened her eyes to a hateful squint as he plopped down beside her and spread his arms wide over the back of the bench with a satisfied "aaaah."

There was a moment of silence as Mamoru basked in the shade and Usagi lay uncomfortably at an angle, before the girl harrumphed and pulled both her legs back onto the bench, setting them swiftly down on Mamoru's lap. His eyes bugged and he glanced down at the perfectly tanned, shapely limbs lying across him, ending in small dirty feet with chipping pink polish on the toenails.

By the time he looked back over at Usagi, she seemed zoned out once more. If it hadn't been for her constantly flicking wrist, sending that minimal breeze over her face, he would have thought she was asleep.

"I would toss you off this bench altogether, Odango Atama, if it didn't take so much energy."

Her only reply was a slight curling of her lips.

. . .

**Important Announcement!**

In case anyone missed Sunday's newsletter, I'm hosting a writing contest in honor of both my brand new website/newsletter and my first real publication!

The grand prize winner will receive an autographed copy of _Bound in Skin,_ the anthology that includes my first published story "The Phantom of Linkshire Manor," plus their entry will be featured in a future issue of my newsletter. (In the event that the grand prize winner already owns _Bound in Skin,_ a prize of similar value will be selected.)

_PROMPT: your story must include a "ghost" or "phantom." It can be real or imagined and its prominence in your story is completely up to you._

Additional Guidelines:

- may be Sailor Moon fanfiction OR original  
- any characters, time period, or genre will be accepted  
- max. word count: 5,000 words

The deadline is Sunday, July 6.

Submission Guidelines:

Please send your story to me at AliBlade22 at hotmail dot com (link is on my profile, please do not send it as a private message). You can send your story as an attachment or paste it into the body of the email.

The subject line must include the words "Writing Contest."

Be sure to include your name and email address at the top of your story.

Good luck! I look forward to reading your entries!


	46. 17 Ice Cream

**The "Phantom" Writing Contest Ends This Sunday, July 11! Continue reading after the drabble for rules and details.**

17. Ice Cream  
Alicia Blade  
724 words

"I finally found it! After all these years!" Usagi cried joyfully as she danced into the arcade.

Interrupted mid-counter-wiping (Motoki) and coffee-sipping (Mamoru), the two turned to watch as Usagi hummed and skipped her way toward them and plopped down on the stool beside Mamoru.

"What did you find?" Mamoru asked with a wicked smile. "Your sanity?"

"Even better. I found my calling."

The two men exchanged curious glances.

"Your calling?" asked Motoki. "As in... your life's calling?"

"Yes! You see, when I was little I wanted to be an actress, and then a model and a fashion designer and a rich housewife and a teacher and, up to a few hours ago, a detective—"

Mamoru guffawed.

"—but then, it occurred to me. The most extraordinary thought I have ever had in all my fourteen years."

"And what would that be? That detectives and teachers require this thing called common sense?"

She ignored Mamoru, staring dreamily at the arcade's tiled ceiling, and murmured, "Ice cream."

Motoki furrowed his brow. "Did she just say 'ice cream'?"

"This is why I was hoping she'd found her sanity."

"No, listen. There are hundred of ice cream flavors out there, right? I mean, you have the staples—chocolate, vanilla, Neapolitan—but then there's also chunky monkey and tiramisu and goodness knows what else. Plus some brands come out with seasonal flavors, like ice cream with glow-in-the-dark gummy works around Halloween."

"Is there a point to this?"

"Well, somebody has to come up with those flavors!"

Motoki continued to gawk uncertainly, but Mamoru was quicker to realize her point. "Ah—and you think that person should be you."

"Yes! I mean, who loves ice cream more than me?"

"I can't think of a soul."

"Plus, I've already started planning for my first breakthrough flavor. I'm telling you, I am a natural at this."

"Well, I'm happy for you, Usagi-chan," said Motoki. "I hope it works out."

"Thanks, Motoki. Now all I need is some way to test my flavors before offering them to Ben and Jerry, but how does one go about making ice cream without... you know, an ice cream factory?"

"You could maybe try... an ice cream maker?" suggested Mamoru.

Still too excited to note his sarcasm, Usagi squinted curiously at Mamoru. "What's an ice cream maker?"

Mamoru laughed. "You didn't know you can buy a machine that will make ice cream for you at home?"

Usagi's eyes widened. After a long moment in which she could not breathe, she hissed, "Don't toy with me like that!"

"I'm not toying with you. You can buy them just about anywhere they sell kitchen stuff. I have one. Homemade ice cream is much better than store-bought stuff."

Usagi continued to stare, dazed, with drool forming at the corners of her lips. "Are you serious? How have I survived all these years without knowing of such a miraculous invention?"

"Maybe," interrupted Motoki, "Mamoru will let you use his ice cream maker to experiment with."

"What?" gaped Mamoru. "No way!" But then his eyes passed between Motoki's suggestively quirked eyebrow and Usagi's full, pouting lips, and his heart instantly began to melt like... well, you know.

He groaned. "Fine. You can come over and use my ice cream maker. But you have to supply all the ingredients, and I get a sample of everything you make."

"Deal!" Usagi chirped, her cheeks flushing with excitement. "You won't regret this, Mamoru. I am going to make the best ice cream known to man."

Mamoru rolled his eyes and took another drink of his coffee. "So what's your first brilliant concoction going to be?" he asked, visions of dark chocolate and cherries and caramel swirls drifting through his head.

"Jelly donut. Frozen raspberry jelly with bits of powdered donuts mixed in."

Mamoru's lip curled. "That sounds awful."

"It sounds delicious! What do you know?"

"Well, I can see you're not going to be the most discerning ice cream judge out there," said Mamoru, winking at Usagi's burning cheeks. "Which is precisely why you need me to taste for you."

And though the thought of jerry donut ice cream made Mamoru's stomach churn, he couldn't help looking forward to many more flavors to come.

* * *

**The "Phantom" Writing Contest Ends This Sunday, July 11!**

Be sure to get your entries in on time. I'm so excited to read them! If you missed the rules the first time around, here they are again:

The grand prize winner will receive an autographed copy of _Bound in Skin,_ the anthology that includes my first published story "The Phantom of Linkshire Manor," plus their entry will be featured in a future issue of my newsletter. (In the event that the grand prize winner already owns _Bound in Skin,_ a prize of similar value will be selected.)

PROMPT: your story must include a "ghost" or "phantom." It can be real or imagined and its prominence in your story is completely up to you.

Additional Guidelines

may be Sailor Moon fanfiction OR original

any characters, time period, or genre will be accepted

max. word count: 5,000 words

deadline: Sunday, July 6

Submission Guidelines

Please send your story to me at AliBlade22 at hotmail dot com (link is on my profile, please do not send it as a private message). You can send it as an attachment or paste your story into the body of the email.

The subject line must include the words "Writing Contest."

Be sure to include your name and email address at the top of your story.

Good luck!


	47. 7 Things Left Unsaid

**The "Phantom" Writing Contest Ends This Sunday, July 11! Continue reading after the drabble for rules and details.**

7. Things Left Unsaid  
Alicia Blade  
434 words

She is the densest, most thick-headed, naïve, ignorant girl I have ever known.

I mean, how else can I possibly say it?

_Of course _"Odango Atama" is a term of affection, a humble pet name—what else would it be?

_Of course_ I always step right into her path of forward momentum when she's hurtling forward at full-speed because I want to feel her lithe form collide into mine and, if I'm really lucky, knock me to the ground and land in a heap on my lap so I can have one glorious moment with my arms around her—why else would we run into each other so darn often?

_Of course_ my making fun of her for being a horrific klutz afterwards is just to get a rise out of her because I think she's so unfairly cute when her face is all flushed and her nose all scrunched up and her fists clenched like she might actually hit me this time—why else would I tease her so much?

_Of course_ I tell her that she doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell with Motoki because I'm completely, utterly, insanely jealous to the point of wanting to give Motoki a black eye from time to time, because he wouldn't be quite so good-looking then, now would he? Except I know it would only insight her pity and compassion, and that is definitely _not _what I'm going for. So why else would I try to negate her childish flirting with him?

_Of course_ I think she's the sweetest person on this earth. Why else would I take such pride in pointing out her complete lack of knowledge on the workings of this cruel world?

_Of course_ I think she's gorgeous, with those vibrant blue eyes and that glowing smile and those Rapunzel-like locks of golden hair. Why else would I comment on her looks so much? Sure, the comments usually relate to pastries, and how her hairstyle makes me think of donuts and/or if she keeps eating said donuts she's going to turn into a blimp, but she _must_ know that's my own way of saying I think she looks like a Greek goddess in a school uniform, right?

_Of course_ I'm madly in love with her. It must be the most obvious thing in the world! The fact is written into every word I say, every look I give her, every touch, every smile, every tease. I might as well have a tattoo on my forehead that says "I Love You, Usagi!"

_So what does a guy have to do to show it?_

* * *

**The "Phantom" Writing Contest Ends This Sunday, July 11!**

Be sure to get your entries in on time. I'm so excited to read them! If you missed the rules the first time around, here they are again:

The grand prize winner will receive an autographed copy of _Bound in Skin,_ the anthology that includes my first published story "The Phantom of Linkshire Manor," plus their entry will be featured in a future issue of my newsletter. (In the event that the grand prize winner already owns _Bound in Skin,_ a prize of similar value will be selected.)

PROMPT: your story must include a "ghost" or "phantom." It can be real or imagined and its prominence in your story is completely up to you.

Additional Guidelines

may be Sailor Moon fanfiction OR original

any characters, time period, or genre will be accepted

max. word count: 5,000 words

deadline: Sunday, July 6

Submission Guidelines

Please send your story to me at AliBlade22 at hotmail dot com (link is on my profile, please do not send it as a private message). You can send it as an attachment or paste your story into the body of the email.

The subject line must include the words "Writing Contest."

Be sure to include your name and email address at the top of your story.

Good luck!


	48. 69 Pen Pal

69. Pen Pal

Motoki knew the moment that Usagi wandered into the arcade with a distraught, confused, dazed aura about here that something was wrong. He stopped wiping the sparkling counter and leaned forward, patiently awaiting her approach, though it took her a long time to notice him as she slowly paced her way through the arcade, searching every corner and seat and booth.

"Usagi-chan, what's wrong?" he asked when she was close enough to hear him.

With a frown, Usagi gave up her search and settled onto a stool. "I haven't seen Mamoru-baka all day," she said. "Usually I've ran into him at least three times by now."

Motoki raised an eyebrow and checked a wall clock; it was only 3:26 in the afternoon.

"But not a sign of him today. Not on my way to school, not during my lunch break, not on my way here, and still, he's nowhere to be seen."

"Usagi, Mamoru went to America."

Usagi's look of confusion quickly turned to a wide-eyed look of horror. "What? America? Since when? Why? How long? Why didn't anyone tell me? Is he coming back?"

"Whoa, calm down. He got accepted for an exchange program through his school. It's only for a month."

Usagi sucked in a quick breath, her heart sinking into her gut. "A whole month?"

"I would have thought you'd be happy about this."

Usagi blinked, breathing shallow and face flushed, realizing what an idiot she must look like. Gulping, she forced herself to regain composure. "Well—it's just… it was so rude of him not to tell me he was leaving… I'm just surprised. I mean… it's like… we had a schedule, you know? Plus, I came up with three fantastic insults during my math class today and I was really excited to use them on him."

Motoki laughed. "Well, write them down in a journal for when he gets back," he joked, then excused himself to help another customer.

Left alone to her thoughts, Usagi sulked against the counter. Mamoru gone for a whole month? No teasing, no mocking, no joking, no nicknames, no battles—for a whole month? The very thought brought tears pricking at her eyes. What would she do with her free time without Mamoru? What idle plotting would fill her imagination during gym class without Mamoru? Her entire existence felt suddenly, oddly trivial.

But then a thought flashed through her mind and she instantly perked up, remembering Motoki's words: write them down in a journal!

Suddenly giddy, she pulled a sheet of paper out of her bookbag and began to write.

When she was finished, moments later, she folded the paper and handed it to Motoki when he returned, a proud smile on her face. "Say, Motoki, would you mind sending this to Mamoru in America for me?"

And then, breathlessly anxious and full of anticipation, she went home to wait.

Mamoru's response came a mere six days later, though the time had crawled by at a torturous, painful, agonizing pace for Usagi. And so she could not have been more delighted when she entered the arcade that day and a very suspicious Motoki handed her an unopened letter, saying, "You know, I'm his best friend and I can't even get him to write me back."

Usagi snatched the letter away, ignoring Motoki's complaint with a brilliant thank you, before scurrying away to the farthest booth.

After tearing the envelope open, she first saw the same piece of paper she'd sent, beginning with her simple address,

_Dear Mamoru,_

Which was abruptly followed by,

_**Can't escape you even in America, can I, Odango?**_

_Just writing to say that if there were a Nobel Prize for Jerkness, you would be a shoe-in._

_**Sweet of you to say that. Of course, as you bring out the best in me, I would be forced to share the honor with the World's Biggest Ditz.**_

_Funny thing. I was at the zoo the other day and I could have sworn I saw you there! But then I looked again, and saw it was just a komodo dragon. Do you think you guys could be distant relatives?_

_**Perhaps—I'll have to look into my genealogical records. That reminds me. My American "family" took me to a circus yesterday and they had a real 400-pound bearded lady on the show. She could have been your sister! It made me miss you something fierce.**_

_So my English teacher is having us choose a work of classic literature to read for the semester and I was leaning toward Dracula, but I wanted to get your opinion on it. I figured the whole blood-sucking monster thing would be right up your aisle._

_**Dracula's a good choice—though I've always felt that I related more to the count's irresistible charmer side, wouldn't you agree? Nevertheless, you probably shouldn't bother reading it. The old English will go way over your head. If you want, we can rent the movie when I get back so I can help translate all the big words for you.**_

_Sincerely,__  
Usagi_

_**Yours,  
Mamoru**_

_P.S. Come home soon._

_**The devil himself couldn't keep me away.**_

Usagi giggled to herself, reading through the letter three times and basking in the familiar afterglow of a few witty jabs and Mamoru's ambiguous final line that sent Usagi's heart fluttering.

Without hesitation, she pulled out a pen and began drafting her response.


	49. 35 Daily Planner

**35. Daily Planner****  
Alicia Blade  
482 words**

To-do list for Friday, August 29, 2008

**Homework:**

read bio. chapter 6

read chem. Chapters 10 & 11

draft intro for chem. essay

outline psych. essay

physics extra credit ??

**Errands:**

dry cleaner

library (return Tolstoy; pick up Whitman & WWI documentary)

grocery store

candles

ingredients for recipe, see below

shaving cream

call dentist re: appointment

music store (something romantic. Jazz? Sinatra?)

**Misc.:**

research love poetry; find something appropriate

choose recipe (no beets, spinach, or squash of any sort, per FM)

note: carrots as a possible side? Would she get it?

make lots and lots of roses

**ASK HER**

Mamoru, face cupped in both hands as he all but pouted at his planner, sighed. Longingly. Ashamedly. And finally tore his eyes away from the list—so close to completed and yet, so far—to attach his eyes to the blonde sipping a milkshake at the counter.

From his vantage point in the first booth, he could partially see her face, cheeks rosy with excitement, eyes vibrant and dancing as she told Motoki all about the new girl in school (Mamoru caught something about an excellent, homemade lunch, but little else), and golden odangos bouncing along with her restless body. Her lush, pink lips, when they weren't prattling on to Mamoru's best friend, were ever wrapped around the red plastic straw of her drink or—every once in a while, which was just often enough to allow Mamoru recovery of his sanity before she overthrew it again—being gently, expertly, unconsciously licked by her small, pink tongue, then pursed to spread the moisture, before returning to her giddy monologue. And her hands, those devilish, lithe fingers with their pristine, unpainted nails—undecorated but for a silver ring around the middle finger of her left—were forever wrapped lovingly around the glass that dripped condensation and askew chocolate syrup. Her legs were continuously shifting beneath their modest blue school skirt—crossed, right over left, with right foot jiggling, then uncrossed with both ankles wrapped around the metal legs of the stool, then crossed for a while, left over right, and so forth—which served both to emphasize her unbridled delight with her new friend and with her milkshake and, it seemed, with life altogether… and to drive Mamoru absolutely mad.

In short, she was pure, unutterable, almost impossible perfection. And also, Mamoru realized with another heart-wrenching sigh, almost as impossibly unattainable.

Untouchable. Un… askable.

At least, for today.

He returned his gaze to the list before him and shifted the weight of his head to his left hand while he took up his pen with his right.

He crossed out the final objective. Flipped the page.

Sighed, yet again. And wrote in clean, neat, even letters:

To-do list for Saturday, August 30, 2008

Ask her. For heaven's sake, _just ask her._


	50. 38 Studying

38. Studying  
Alicia Blade  
847 words

They were being so damn loud.

He would have loved to forget that they were out there. Would have loved to ignore their very existence, their unnatural presence, and focused whole-heartedly on the textbook in his lap. But it was simply impossible.

They were just so insufferably, obnoxiously loud.

He should have expected that, of course, when he'd offered to let them use his apartment for their planning. They had insisted it was the only place where they would have peace and quiet (ha!) and not be suspected and not be disturbed. Though they had not told Mamoru that he couldn't join them, he'd thought that this last statement was meant to keep him away.

Which was fine. He wanted nothing at all to do with the planning of Motoki's birthday party. In fact, he didn't even want them doing their planning in his apartment in the first place—he, too, was fond of peace and quiet—but they had begged him.

No, no, no.

_She_ had begged him.

The others he could have resisted. The others he _did_ resist. Until she had been brought into the equation and turned those bewitching, unfair eyes upon him, and pouted with those full, perky lips, and said his name. Not Mamoru-baka, not even Chiba-san. Just… _Mamoru._ And _please._ And _we promise we won't disturb you… if you'll just let us… just this once… please… Mamoru?_

How could he possibly have denied her?

And so here he was, alone, in his bedroom, pretending to study, as the girl's racket vibrated and reverberated along his hallway and assaulted his tender sensibilities and filled him with all sorts of crazy, inane thoughts that had absolutely nothing to do with molecular biology.

He had not cleaned in preparation for their arrival. His apartment was kept tidy to begin with, and he refused to treat this like an _occasion._ He had considered stopping by the store and picking up some donuts or fresh fruit or something, to play the host, but had written that off as caring too much. He did not want to seem to care. And when they arrived, he answered the door in his pajamas. He felt silly doing it, he had wanted to dress, and dress nicely, but his desire to create a sense of normalcy was even stronger. And so he let them inside, and ignored their awed cooing at such a nice apartment, such an amazing view. He had pointed out the kitchen and the bathroom and then claimed that he had a lot of studying to do and he would be in his bedroom if they needed him.

They did not ask him to stay. He did not invite the invitation.

But he _did_ leave his bedroom door open, just slightly, against his better judgment. Even as the decibels rose, he refused to go shut it. Because there remained that silly hope constantly thriving at the back of his thoughts. This fantasy that she would see that open door and understand it for what it was. An invitation. A welcoming. A deep, intrinsic longing for her to come to him.

Which was purely ridiculous, of course. What, exactly, did he think would happen? That she would abandon the company of her friends to make her way back into the dark recesses of his apartment, to approach the troll himself, hidden away in his secluded dungeon, and… and what? Ask him where he kept the silverware, perhaps? Or if he had any markers? Or how to work the radio? It wasn't like she was going to come traipsing down here in the midst of their top-secret planning party and barge into his room and throw herself at him or profess her secret adoration or something equally absurd.

Frankly, he was embarrassed himself even for harboring that little seed of hope.

But it would not go away. And so long as she remained in his apartment, a single wall and a bunch of kitchen cupboards dividing them, her voice and laughter heard above all the others like a siren in his ears, he could not make the fantasy go away. And he could not make himself shut the door and shut all signs of her out.

And then, suddenly, inexplicably, there was silence.

A silence so loud that it drew Mamoru's attention away from his fantasies with a jolt of surprise. Ashamed, he realized that he had not read even a single page of his textbook, and falling back against his headboard with a sigh he recalled now, too late, the sound of the front door shutting as they had left, a sound that seemed intolerably loud, though it had not disturbed him at all at the time.

They—_she_—had not even bothered to say goodbye. He supposed his pretense of studying had been far too good for… well, his own good.

At least he had his peace and quiet back. At least he would no be disturbed for the rest of the day. At least he had been kindly returned to his solitude.

Yes. At least there was always that.


	51. 58 At the End of the Day

This is the drabble that was supposed to go out with Wednesday's newsletter, but technical issues have thus far prevented me from sending it. Hopefully they will be resolved soon and you'll all find a nice surprise in your inbox.

58. At the End of the Day  
Alicia Blade  
999 words

_Continued from 38. Studying_

I set the textbook aside with yet another sigh and crawled off the bed.

In the living room, the only signs of the girls were a few topsy-turvy pillows on the sofa and a lingering smell of perfume—I did not know whose perfume, but it was a pleasant, feminine scent, so I imagined it must have been hers. In vain I searched for something she may have left me, in secret. Some card or note or letter tucked in the cushions or beneath the coffee maker.

Stupid? Yes. I knew better. But I couldn't help it. If there was a chance, any slight chance, any at all, that she had left some hint for me to find, in her absence, that told of some secret longing, even half as strong as my own, then I had to know, had to find it, had to—

And… there was.

My heart stopped when I spotted it.

A notebook tucked behind the sofa. Well… not _behind,_ but enough out of the way that it seemed likely enough that it had been put there by design. Pink, with a bunny sticker and loads of scribbles across the cover. It had to be hers.

But no sooner had I spotted it than a knock at the door nearly sent me tumbling over with surprise.

I cursed silently at the unknown intruder who would so blatantly disrespect this oh-so-important, life-changing moment, and went to open the door.

Only to find… her.

Sheepish. Shy. Perhaps even a bit frightened. She stood in the hallway with her head dipped and her bookbag clutched in her arms and a blush—one of the brightest I'd ever seen on her—covering her cheeks.

I could think of nothing to say, and so, finally, she broke the silence with a muttered, "I forgot my notebook."

Oh. Of course.

Secret hint of longing, indeed.

"Oh, okay," I managed, stepping aside. "I… haven't seen anything. Do you know where…?"

"It should be over here," she said, and walked straight to it, and picked it up, and slid it into her bag, and turned to face me, and stood. Just stood, shifting her weight from foot to foot and playing with a loose string on the bag and analyzing the hell out of my beige carpet.

"Thanks, again, for letting us use your place," she finally said.

"Sure, anytime." I was on auto-response mode. It was such a peculiar feeling, being alone with her, here, in my very own apartment, that I could not think of how I was supposed to act. Were there human rules of etiquette for such a situation? "Did you get a lot done?"

"Oh, yes. It's almost all figured out. Mako-chan will make the cake, and Mina's going to make up some playlists, and Rei and I will decorate, and Ami is responsible for getting him away for awhile. It's going to be great."

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Oh good. I'm glad you're coming. I mean, I figured you would, but… I didn't know for sure…" She trailed off, fidgeted some more, and finally said in a half-hearted whisper. "I guess I should go. Thanks…"

She walked by me, still standing dumbly next to the open door. "I'll see you later," I called after her, and she nodded, but kept on walking. With no other option, I shut the door and fell against it and beat my head a few times on the solid wood and called myself some choice names.

Once I had stopped feeling quite so idiotic, I pouted up at the ceiling, and whispered to the empty room, "Would you like to stay? I could make hot cocoa. Or dinner… if you're hungry? I have noodles. And popcorn. We could order a pizza? I have movies we could watch, or maybe we could check out Pay Per View and see what's on. Or play games… I have cards, and dominoes… somewhere. I think. Maybe… if you wanted to stay… for just a little—"

Another knock.

I yelped this time, the pounding right at my head, and jumped away from the door. Slicking my hair back in faked composure, I slowly opened it again.

And blinked.

She blinked back. Licked her lips. Her blush seemed to have darkened… was it possible? But there was a firm resolution in her expression. A faux confidence betrayed by the pinkness of her complexion.

"Y-yes?"

"I didn't forget my notebook."

I stared.

"Well, I mean, I did, but it was on purpose."

Nothing.

"I wanted an excuse to come back. After the girls had left."

Was I dreaming?

"Uh… Mamoru?"

I started. "Yes, I'm sorry. I just… what were you saying?"

I saw her gulp, her conviction faltering. She scratched absently at her elbow. "I came back, because I wanted to… to tell you… something."

"What did you want to tell me?"

There was a long, thick hesitation, before I saw her shoulders sink and she shook her head. "Nothing. Never mind. It was about… the party, but we'll just talk about it later. Never mind. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

She turned to leave. Her feet dragged on the hallway carpet, her two streamers of hair swung limply at her sides.

"Do you want to stay for dinner?"

A pause. A slow turning back to me. A disbelieving frown. "What?"

"Do you want to stay for dinner?" The second time, it came out sounding a lot more confident, even though it wasn't.

"Why?"

I shrugged, my gaze dancing off to some invisible spot on the wall. "Because… it might be nice?"

"Are you serious?"

"Sure." I looked at her. "Yes. If you want to."

She allowed herself the slightest, panicked smile, as she nodded. "Okay."

"And maybe you could tell me… whatever it was you came to tell me?"

Her eyes flashed, lowered, eyelashes fluttering, blush blooming. But the smile increased, just a little, as she walked by me into my apartment.

"Yeah," I heard her say. "Maybe."


	52. 5 Short Skirt

**Welcome to my 2008 Christmas drabble extravaganza! Lots of my livejournal friends requested drabbles and short stories this year, so one simply had to comply.**

**I'm also working on a one-parter UsaMamo fic which will hopefully (hopefully!) be posted on or before New Year's Day.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**5. Short Skirt**

**Alicia Blade**

**578 words**

**Dedicated to Sugarlilie.**

"I hope you're not planning on spending a lot of money on me," Mamoru said as he followed Motoki through the crowded mall. With less than a week to go before Christmas, the place was crammed full of hectic shoppers, screaming children, and bulging shopping bags.

"Don't worry, I'm not," said Motoki over the hubbub. "Actually, it shouldn't cost a thing."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow, wondering why on earth Motoki was dragging him through the crowded mall if he didn't intend to buy anything.

For his part, Mamoru had barely put a dent in his wallet when he purchased Motoki's gift. He'd bought him a cooking set, with a dozen different sauces, marinades, and seasonings. It wasn't the most extraordinary gift, perhaps, but Motoki liked to cook, so it would at least be useful. Mamoru wasn't really into the whole gift thing anyway, but Motoki always got him something for Christmas, so the past few years he'd felt obligated to return the favor.

Still, he couldn't figure out what _free_ gift Motoki could possibly have in store for him. He hoped it wasn't something cheesy like taking him to see the mall carolers.

Goodness, he hoped it wasn't that.

"Here we are," said Motoki, pausing as they came to the central corridor of the mall, a wide-open space surrounded by clothes stores and cell-phone kiosks, a domed ceiling filled with skylights lighting up the whole space in wintery gray daylight.

And in the center of the large indoor intersection was the North Pole.

Mamoru's quirked an unimpressed eyebrow. "You brought me to see Santa?"

He was suddenly wishing for carolers.

"Not Santa," said Motoki, raising a finger with a mischievous glint in his eye, "Santa's little helper."

Mamoru stared at him. Still unimpressed.

"Come on, look closer," said Motoki. And his impulsive grin made him impossible to resist—Mamoru often hated that about his best friend.

With a sigh, he nudged his way through the crowd that surrounded them—the children waiting to see the big guy, the parents pretending to be excited about the big guy, the teenagers waiting to pull off the big guy's faux beard. Mamoru stopped when he came to a picket fence made of giant candy canes. "Okay, what am I looking fo—" He trailed off, his eyes catching sight of a very familiar hairstyle.

He blinked, wondering for a moment if he was hallucinating. But no… as she turned slightly toward him he realized that it _was_ Usagi.

To be specific, it was the Christmas elf version of Usagi.

He drunk in the sight of her with a degree of shock—the pointed green hat situated between the odangos, the petite green jacket lined in white fur that perfectly accentuated her slender waist, the over-the-knee green-and-white striped stockings that formed to her slender calves, the prim black mary janes…

And the skirt. Also green, but the hem cut in a jagged zig zag, with each zig trimmed with a little gold bell that tinkled when she walked and drew his attention again and again to the expanse of shapely pale thighs, barely concealed as she moved back and forth between the line of children and the big man seated upon his sled.

Mamoru gulped, his mouth suddenly dry, his heart palpitating uncomfortably in his chest.

"Merry Christmas," Motoki said beside him.

Which was when Mamoru realized that he was going to have to think of something a lot better than marinades.


	53. 34 Ball of Yarn

**34. Ball of Yarn**

**Alicia Blade**

**913 words**

**Dedicated to Mokoleena.**

She had first gotten the idea in mid-November when, despite the steadily dropping temperatures, she noticed that Mamoru never wore gloves. And though he walked everywhere with his hands thrust into his jacket pockets, he nevertheless had to spend a good five minutes of each visit to the arcade warming his fingers against his coffee mug. She'd noticed how red his hands always were, and how wind-chapped, and had instantly realized that _that_ was what she should give him for Christmas.

A new pair of gloves.

And from there, her imagination began to spiral out of control.

She had no money. She could probably afford to buy him cheap gloves, but certainly nothing fancy, and what was the point of getting him a gift if she had to give him a cheap gift?

And then she thought that maybe she could make him gloves. She'd knitted a scarf once. How much more difficult could it be? This was the reasoning that had gone through her head back when it had seemed like a good idea.

As it turned out… knitting gloves could be much more difficult that knitting a scarf.

So knitting a pair of gloves by Christmas quickly became out of the question.

But then, there were also mittens. She thought she could probably figure out how to make a pair of mittens, if she had a good pattern and instruction booklet, which she was able to pick up from the library.

She'd first thought that maybe she could make green mittens, to coordinate with his favorite jacket, but it turned out that the yarn manufacturers of the world had a little more common sense than that and it was impossible to find just the right shade of god-awful green, and so she resorted to black.

A black wool-cashmere blend.

She was becoming optimistic.

But, as fate would have it, knitting mittens wasn't as easy as it seemed, either. But by the time she figured this out, Christmas day was fast approaching and she was running out of time to improve her technique, and she refused to give up completely and buy the cheap alternative instead. Besides, all of that fancy yarn wasn't to be wasted!

And so, come Christmas eve, she hurried to bind-off the yarn on the second mitten, snipped the loose tail, threw the pair into a prepared gift bag, and rushed from her house to make sure she reached the arcade while he was still there.

She arrived huffing and puffing, her cheeks pink from the run and the cold, the gift bag worse for the wear. But he hadn't left. She spotted him instantly at the counter, his back to her, warming his bare hands on his mug, like usual.

This was about the time nervousness and panic made their debut.

What if he didn't like them? What if they didn't fit? What if he made fun of her amateur attempts? What if he was mortified to receive a gift from the klutzy, ditzy teenager that annoyed him so?

She gulped, still loitering in the doorway. Her hopes began to sink. Her limbs were trembling. She thought to turn and walk away before anyone noticed her, but it was already too late. Motoki had seen her, and was waving her over.

Mamoru turned then to face her as well, and the sight of his beautiful bright eyes upon her settled the matter. Even if he hated the mittens, even if he thought they were ridiculous and absurd, she had to give them to him. She would never forgive herself if she abandoned the project now at its conclusion. She could not spend the next twelve months wondering what he would have said or knowing that he was ignorant of her toils and labors.

So, sucking in a deep breath, she approached the counter and thrust the gift bag toward Mamoru.

He stared at it.

"Merry Christmas," she said, breathlessly.

He still only stared, and slowly raised his gaze to her. "For me?"

It was a stupid question, and any other day she would have loved to be able to tease him for it. But she couldn't at that moment. Her heart was hammering too hard, making it difficult to focus. So she just nodded instead.

Mamoru took the package with some trepidation. She'd never seen him looking so surprised or confused.

It somehow made him look even more handsome than usual. Her cheeks flushed with the thought.

He reached inside and pulled out the two black mittens, and proceeded to stare at them with mute astonishment.

"I noticed that your hands always seem cold," she stammered when he said nothing.

Setting the bag off to the side, Mamoru pulled one of the mittens onto his right hand—it looked as though it fit perfectly—and then the other. He paused. Usagi felt a scalding heat in her cheeks as he held his left hand up at furrowed his brow.

"This one's missing a thumb."

"I know," she said. "I ran out of time." She chewed her lip, embarrassment swirling in her stomach.

But then Mamoru laughed, and the tension began to dissolve with the sound. He did not seem upset or disappointed. He did not seem mocking. The smile that fell on her was made of pure amusement and warmth and even, she thought, a hint of appreciation.

"Thank you, Odango-chan," he said. "Honestly, I always thought that having two useful hands was a bit redundant anyway."


	54. 47 Broken Glass

**47. Broken Glass**

**Alicia Blade**

**509 words**

**Dedicated to Willowbabe.**

"Oh, this is not good."

A long silence followed Mamoru's mumbled words, before Motoki, behind him, agreed with, "This could be really bad."

But they continued to watch, silent and stunned, as Usagi slowly, carefully, precisely ascended the three-legged wooden ladder. Then she reached the top, having to stoop slightly to keep her odangos from hitting the arcade's high ceilings, and hesitated there, frozen, as she attempted to reclaim the courage that had sizzled away during the long climb.

Mamoru bunched a napkin up in his fist. Every slight wobble of the ladder sent his heart galloping into his throat. Every movement from the petite girl took his breath, froze his muscles, brought sweat springing up on his forehead.

"Okay," Usagi said, breathless, after a long pause. "I'm ready."

"Are you sure you don't want me to do that, Usagi-chan?" Makoto asked from the base of the ladder, her voice betraying her own nervousness.

"No, no, I want to do it," said Usagi. "Just pass it up." Without looking down at Makoto, she pried one hand away from the ladder's topmost platform and held it down as low as she could without losing her balance.

Mamoru gulped as he watched Makoto pass a glass star-shaped tree-topper into Usagi's hand.

The blonde snatched it away and quickly reasserted herself. Too quickly. The ladder bucked and swayed beneath her and she squealed. Mamoru jumped from his stool, but had not taken a step before he discerned that Usagi's balance was regained. She was not going to fall.

Gulping, he shakily lowered himself back onto the stool. But his nerves were frazzled. His eyes stung from not blinking, and his heart was letting off small earthquakes in his chest with each moment that passed by with her up on that ladder.

"Usagi," Makoto said after catching her own breath, "are you sure you don't—"

"Yes, I'm sure. I can do this." Setting her brow determinedly, Usagi released the other hand from the ladder and placed her palm flat against the ceiling above her for purchase as she slowly—slowly—slowly—tilted her way out from the ladder, straining her hand with the star toward the top of the arcade's Christmas tree.

Her knuckle brushed the needled bough. She grunted from the exertion. Sucked in a deep breath. Leaned forward. Stretched. Strained.

Screamed.

The arcade was filled with the clattering of wood and branches, ornaments and lights, glass and tin. The tree crashed to the floor. The ladder crashed on top of it. The silver star shattered.

Usagi's scream died suddenly as she realized that she was no longer falling. And she was not dead.

Heart thumping wildly. Breath ragged. She stared slack-jawed into Mamoru's piercing eyes. Clutched desperately at his broad shoulders. Felt her body being crushed mercilessly to his chest.

"Honestly," he barked when the room's turmoil had began to subside, "are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

He half-dropped her onto the crumpled velvet tree skirt, let out a frustrated sigh, and stalked angrily from the arcade.


	55. 27 Stained Glass

**27. Stained Glass**

**Alicia Blade**

**1,282 words**

**Dedicated to Akinarei.**

"Usagi, you're using too much icing."

"It needs a lot of icing to hold the shutters on," Usagi said, ignoring Makoto's warning and proceeding to gush the creamy, sugary concoction onto the small gingerbread frame.

Makoto rolled her eyes and returned her focus to the ice-cream-cone and gumdrop forest that was to surround their little gingerbread cottage in the woods.

"Two minutes," a judge announced from somewhere on the other side of the auditorium.

Usagi let out a panicked squeal, squished an extra-large dollop of icing onto the house's red-licorice chimney, and jammed Makoto's pre-made Santa head on top. His hat got a little squashed in the process and the cream oozing out all around him made a big goopy mess, but she figured that the judges would probably mistake it for snow.

Slushy snow, perhaps. But whatever.

"Mako-chan, hurry up with those trees! It's almost time."

"I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying. Just calm down."

Usagi chewed on a knuckle and turned to scan the rest of the bustling contestants. At the table beside them, Minako and Rei seemed to be having a similar conversation as Mina swirled curlicues of pink-tinted icing onto their roof while Rei scolded her that it wouldn't dry fast enough and was bound to get destroyed before the judges saw it. (On hearing this, Minako only shrugged and said, "But it'll taste better," and then popped a peppermint toadstool into her mouth.)

And on the table to their opposite side, Ami and Motoki sat calmly at their table with their finished gingerbread house already before them. Of course, Ami would never be caught dead rushing a project at the last minute, and Motoki seemed pleasantly content with their masterpiece: a miniature, edible replica of the Crown Arcade.

It was actually pretty good. Which made Usagi a little nervous.

But turning away from her friendly competition, Usagi couldn't help as her gaze drifted two aisles away toward the unfriendly competition.

She gritted her teeth when her eyes landed on a head of black hair. Her shoulders tensed to see his long, steady fingers working so carefully and patiently on his own gingerbread creation. He was working solo—though Motoki had offered to be his partner first, he'd insisted that he would prefer doing it alone.

Figures. Antisocial was his middle name. Or arrogance and greed—he probably thought his gingerbread house was going to be so good that he would certainly win, and he just didn't want to split the prize money with anyone else. That jerk.

Her lip curled a little to think of it.

All that mattered to her was that her and Makoto's house was better than Mamoru's.

Sadly, the view to his creation was blocked by a yellow gingerbread submarine on the table that divided them.

But as she glared at him, transfixed, she saw Mamoru pause and remove his hands from his project. Slowly, he stood back. Blinked. Inhaled a long, slow breath and let it out just as slowly. And then nodded, as if proud with his work.

And she could have sworn that a miniature smile even darted over his lips.

Her heart jumped.

But only because he looked so darn _arrogant._ Which… oddly enough… kind of suited him…

"Time! Would all contestants please step away from their entries!"

Makoto stuck the final tree in place just in time and stepped back from the table, pulling Usagi back with her.

Usagi turned startled eyes to her partner, surprised to find a gentle heat in her cheeks.

"Good job, Usagi-chan," Makoto said, beaming. "I think we stand a chance."

The emcee continued, "Our judges will now come through and review everyone's entries. The best-in-show winner will receive a two-night stay at a log cabin, all expenses paid. The two runners-up will receive…"

Usagi tuned out the prize announcement, watching as the judges began to circle through the aisles. The contestants all waited with bated breath—some hopeful, some just relieved that the hard part was over—while the judges made their rounds, rating each gingerbread creation on different strengths and attributes.

Usagi kept one eye on their own entry, nervously watching as Santa's head became partially detached from his shoulders and began to slump toward the roof. She kept the other eye on Mamoru.

He seemed nervous too.

And then he was looking at her. Piercing, indescribable gaze. Unknown emotion. Unspoken meaning.

She gasped and turned away, just as a judge approached their gingerbread house and began to mark things down on her clipboard. "Very good," she said after a moment. She flashed a grin at Usagi and Makoto before moving on to Ami and Motoki's table.

"Very good?" Usagi whispered. "What do you think that means?"

Makoto shrugged. "Could it possibly mean… very good?"

Usagi frowned and returned to chewing on her knuckle. After another moment, her traitorous eyes found their way back to Mamoru again but, thankfully, he was not looking at her.

Unthankfully, he was grinning again—and that always did funny things to her insides.

She saw that he was talking to another one of the judges, who was positively _beaming_ at his entry. Usagi growled and stood up on her toes, trying to catch a glimpse of Mamoru's creation, but still she could see nothing. Then another judge approached his table and this one, a man, positively lit up when his gaze fell on Mamoru's entry.

Taking her knuckle from her mouth, Usagi grabbed up a piece of leftover gingerbread from their table and began to mindlessly shovel bits of it into her mouth as she watched. And then a _third_ judge met at Mamoru's table and together, the four of them stood ogling and smiling at his piece.

By this time, her friends had all noticed Mamoru's popularity as well and were questioning what he could have done to make the judges take such notice of him, but Usagi barely heard them. Blood was rushing through her ears, drowning out all sounds, a she pulled at the gingerbread with her teeth.

Finally, the judges moved on from Mamoru's table and continued to review the other entries.

But when, five minutes later, an emcee took the stage to announce a winner had been chosen, Usagi was not surprised to hear Mamoru's voice over the speaker.

"Just great!" she hissed, stomping her foot. "That's all he needs is one more thing to brag about. It isn't fair!"

Makoto tried to console her, but was ignored as Usagi turned and stormed out of auditorium. She did not dare glance at the winner. She could already imagine his gloating smile, his cruel teases as he beat her at something, _again._

If she had looked at him, though, she would have seen only bewilderment as he watched her dart through the double doors with clenched fists.

The announcement of the prize fell on deaf ears for Mamoru as he felt his hopes dashed, _again._ Heart sinking, he turned a disappointed sigh toward his winning entry, just as Motoki and Ami popped up on the other side of his table, full of congratulations and curiosity.

"Oh, a castle!" he heard Motoki say. "Wow, that's really impressive."

"Thanks," Mamoru muttered. With a sigh, he gestured down at it. "It has a stained glass window, too."

"It does?" said Amy, reaching out to turn the small round table spinner so that the large stained-glass window (really made from painstakingly melted jolly ranchers) faced them.

They both gasped simultaneously.

"Oh, it's lovely," Ami said after a stunned moment.

"Thanks."

"It is really good," said Motoki, though his brow had drawn down in confusion. "But what does the bunny on the moon have to do with Christmas?"


	56. 85 A Change of Scenery

**85. A Change of Scenery**

**Alicia Blade**

**719 words**

**Dedicated to DaBlackRose.**

"It sure was nice for Mamoru-san to share his prize with us, wasn't it?" said Makoto, swinging her luggage up onto one shoulder.

Usagi grunted in response. She still hadn't gotten over the fact that Mamoru—Mamoru, of all people—had defeated her and Makoto. At a _gingerbread house _contest. It was shameful.

"Just think," Minako said, helping Rei and Ami unload the rest of the bags from the car's trunk, "three days of peace and quiet and merry-making. We can go snowshoeing and ice skating, or sing Christmas carols, or sit by the fire and drink hot chocolate."

"I brought a jigsaw puzzle," said Ami.

Minako blinked at her.

"I just thought that was something kind of relaxing… that people might enjoy…?"

Usagi sighed. "It _is_ going to be nice," she said. "Three days with my best friends, up in the snowy mountains. It's a dream come true." Her gaze traveled across the expanse of woods, alighting on the log cabin nestled between the trees. It looked like something off a postcard—the weathered red-tinged logs dusted with powder-white snow, the windows glowing amber in the winter twilight, a miniature Christmas tree visible beside a crackling fireplace.

She was just starting to feel contentment welling up inside of her when a question burbled up inside of her: _Who had built the fire?_

Then the front door swung open and a head of cropped blonde hair appeared. "You guys made it!" called Motoki, slipping his feet into a pair of boots by the door and scampering out to help them.

And then there was Mamoru, right behind him.

Usagi's jaw dropped. Mamoru's lips twitched when he spotted her.

"Hey, no one told me he was going to be here!" she cried. "I thought it was just us girls."

"Oh, did we forget to mention that?" said Rei. "Oops."

The snow crunched beneath their feet as Motoki and Mamoru made their way out to the girls' car.

"Always a pleasure to see you too, Odango," said Mamoru. "Here, let me help you with that." He offered to take Usagi's bag, but she glared at her and gripped the bulging duffel bag to her chest.

"I'm fine."

"It looks heavy."

"I'm not a total wimp."

Mamoru started to grin, but managed to control it, glancing back toward the house. "It's kind of icy."

"I said I'm fine." She grunted as she hefted the bag higher in her arms and headed toward the cabin, following close behind Rei and Minako as the others emptied out the car. She was impeccably careful climbing the steps up to the front door and, though she could feel her shoes losing traction as she climbed, she managed to make it into the cabin without falling. She breathed a sigh of relief when she found herself surrounded by warmth and the scent of cinnamon and a wood-burning fireplace.

"Impressive," Mamoru murmured behind her as he dropped one of Rei's bags down in the living room.

Usagi glared at him. "What are the chances that we could instate a forty-eight hour no speaking rule for you?"

His grin broadened. "What are the chances we could instate a forty-eight hour no sweets rule for you?"

Usagi harrumphed and turned away, wondering if a ban on sweets might be worth it.

The car unpacked, everyone shuffled into the quaint living room. "They're predicting more snow tonight," said Motoki.

"Maybe we'll get snowed in," said Makoto, beaming, "and have to stay here for a week."

"Oh god," Usagi said, suddenly filling with terror. Beside her, Mamoru chuckled.

"So there are three bedrooms," said Motoki. "I hope you guys won't mind sharing."

"Not at all. We can double up," said Minako.

"Maybe Usagi and Mamoru could share a bed," suggested Rei with a cruel glint in her eye.

Usagi's jaw dropped in dismay, heat flooding her cheeks. "I will not—"

Everyone else burst into laughter—except Mamoru, who was carefully analyzing the carpet.

"Don't worry," said Motoki. "Mamoru and I will take the couches out here."

"Oh." Usagi shut her jaw, but could not keep the irritation from her face… or the blush. "Okay then, I'm going to go check out the bedrooms," she muttered, spinning away toward the hall.

Ignorant of the redness that flushed over Mamoru's face as well.


	57. 54 Nightmare

**54. Nightmare**

**Alicia Blade**

**649 words**

**Dedicated to Shadowravyn.**

"Mamoru brought a movie for us to watch?" said Usagi, unable to keep the surprise from her expression. "A Christmas movie?"

"That's what Motoki said," answered Minako. "I didn't ask which one though. Can you grab the salt?"

Still pondering the concept that Mamoru had thought to bring a feel-good movie to enjoy during their stay at the cabin, Usagi took the salt from the cupboard and followed Minako and the large bowl of popcorn out into the living room, where the blazing fire had turned to glowing embers and Mamoru was fiddling with the television.

"So what movie are we watching?" asked Rei from her spot on the room's leather recliner.

"Santa Claws," said Mamoru.

"Santa Clause?" said Usagi, settling down on the bearskin rug before the fire. "The Tim Allen movie?"

Mamoru cast her a sly grin. "Not Clause, _Claws._ As in… a cat has claws."

Usagi stared.

Mamoru tossed her the DVD box. A terrified gasp escaped her as she stared down at the red-tinged image of a skeleton dressed in a Santa suit, brandishing a bloodied ax. "You can't be serious. This is a horror movie!"

"Cool," said Makoto.

"Yeah, good choice, Mamoru-san," said Rei. "I swear if I had to watch Miracle on 34th Street one more time I was going to be sick."

"What? You guys are insane," said Usagi. "I'm not watching this."

"What's the matter, Odango?" said Mamoru, eyes glinting. "Are you scared?"

The reply that instantly came to mind was _YES!_ But Usagi clamped her mouth shut and glared at Mamoru, insides seething at the eminent teases she could already see forming in his bright blue eyes. "Of course not," she grumbled, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest and sinking down into the sofa's cushions, determined not to move from that spot until the movie was over.

_Three hours later…_

Usagi jerked beneath the covers of the queen-size bed she was sharing with Ami. Ami, who was sound asleep and had been for nearly an hour, while Usagi stared at each flittering shadow and jumped at each creak of the unfamiliar house and shrunk from each breath of wind that whistled by their frosted window. Her eyes were perpetually glued to the black forest outside, her imagination conjuring visions of every evil thing that could be lurking in those shadows, in those trees, waiting to prey on the unsuspecting travelers, so far from civilization, where no one could hear them scream…

Finally, she could take the silence no more. Pushing the blankets back, she rose from the bed and slipped her feet into the waiting pair of slippers off the side of the bed and crept quietly from the room, praying that someone—_anyone_—would still be awake.

In the living room, her wish was granted, and even the sight of Mamoru curled up all alone on the corner of the sofa reading a large book was enough to make her heart leap with joy. He glanced up when he saw her come in.

"I can't sleep," she said before he could get an annoying word in.

He had started another fire, smaller than the one they'd had going that afternoon, and the flames cast a golden tinge over the room and sparkles in his eyes.

"Because of the movie?"

She nodded. "And don't you dare tease me because of it."

His lips quirked, but evidently he didn't dare. "It was scarier than I thought it was going to be," he said after a minute. "Come on."

He lifted the corner of the blanket draped across his lap, ignoring the fact that there was a whole stack of unused blankets on the other side of the room.

Usagi ignored that fact too and, all too gratefully, climbed onto the sofa and curled herself against Mamoru's side and allowed him to go on reading. Within moments, she was fast asleep.


	58. 89 A Comfortable Silence

**89. Comfortable Silence**

**Alicia Blade**

**388 words**

**Dedicated to JupiterRoses.**

"Well. Would you look at that," said Motoki.

"I know." Rei poured herself a cup of coffee from the complimentary coffeemaker and added a few spoonfuls of sugar. "Pretty amazing, isn't it?"

"I wish I had a camera."

"Don't worry," said Makoto, sitting at the cabin's small kitchen island and working on a jigsaw puzzle. "Minako-chan already took about a dozen pictures."

"Oh, good." Motoki rubbed at his head, his eyes glued to the spectacle in the living room.

Usagi and Mamoru, fast asleep on the bearskin rug before the stone hearth. Cuddling.

Usagi, turned away from Mamoru, had her head resting upon his arm. Mamoru's other arm was draped over her waist, holding her close against him, his face buried into her messed up hair.

"I told you they should share a bed together," Rei said, smirking.

Motoki shook his head again. "You think they've been there all night?"

"Well, Ami claimed that Usagi did go to their room after the movie was over, but she doesn't know when she got up again."

"But I was up at five this morning," said Makoto, fitting two puzzle pieces together. "And there they were."

"Huh."

Motoki accepted a cup of coffee from Rei when it was handed to him, his gaze sweeping over the unusual couple again. "They're kind of cute, aren't they?"

"Very cute," said Rei, "when they're _sleeping._ I'm just sticking around to see their reactions when they finally wake up."

Makoto raised her eyes with a mischievous twinkle. "Actually," she said, turning to glance over her shoulder at the couple. "I don't think they _are_ sleeping."

Her comment aroused a very small, almost unnoticeable tensing in the snoozing enemies.

"In fact," she continued, raising her voice as they all watched the pair with mute curiosity, "I think they've both been awake for the past hour, but they're just pretending to be fast asleep so that they don't have to get up and go back to _fighting. _I think they're enjoying this little truce. Maybe a little too much."

As they stared, two mutual blushes climbed up into the cheeks of Mamoru and Usagi.

Rei snorted. Motoki gaped.

"Shut up," came a sleepy growl from the blonde.

Mamoru, for his part, resorted to loud snoring and tightened his hold around the girl.

Neither of them woke up.


	59. 78 Addiction

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78. Addiction

Alicia Blade

575 words

Mamoru raced down the hospital corridor, sweat beading on his brow. He could see her friends loitering at the other end of the hallway—Ami and Makoto holding hands, Minako hunched over folded arms, Rei glowering at the white linoleum floor.

"Is she okay?" he said, breathless, and skidded to a stop before them.

"Mamoru-san?" Rei said, gaping at him. "What are you—"

"Motoki told me she was in the hospital. I came—I ran as fast as I could. What happened?"

The girls exchanged surprised looks.

"Tell me!"

Makoto frowned. "She overdosed."

Mamoru stumbled back, a thousand thoughts spinning through his head.

She overdosed?

Usagi did _drugs?_

But no, that wasn't possible! There must be a mistake. Maybe she mistook some drugs for her daily vitamins or something. Or perhaps... perhaps she was on medication, and accidentally took too much?

Or maybe... just maybe, it was on purpose.

He groaned, thinking of the argument they'd had that morning. He couldn't even remember what he'd said to her now, only that she'd burned with rage, and her bright blue eyes had darkened with hatred and glittered with tears, before she'd ran off, sobbing.

Guilt pierced his chest. Had he done this to her?

"Mamoru?" said Rei, waving a hand before his eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Can I see her?"

Another bout of exchanged glances, before Minako nodded, and they all parted, allowing him access to the closed hospital door.

He held his breath when he entered. It was as sterile and cold a place as he remembered it. How he hated hospitals. The smells. The tastes. The sounds. The too-polite expressions on the nurse's faces, so full of pity, so jaded.

His stomach lurched when he saw her in the bed. Her odangos were messed, her hair tangled against the pillows. But she was awake, one hand on a remote control, staring at a small TV. Her gaze darted to him and her eyes widened, and her lips formed the beginning of a startled question.

"Usagi," he cried before she could say anything, and collapsed on the bed beside her legs. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry for what I said. I-I didn't realize.... You stupid, stupid girl, why would you do this to yourself?" And then, before he could start crying, he leaned over and buried his face into her blanketed lap.

"Mamoru-baka?" she said, one hand tentatively finding its way to his hair and settling there, unmoving.

"Odango, don't you ever do anything like this again," he said into the blankets, fists bunching up at her sides. "If anything ever happened to you, I... I couldn't..."

"All right, Miss Tsukino, you're free to go."

Mamoru jolted at the sound and jumped off the bed. He grasped Usagi's fragile hand in both of his, heart thudding anxiously, as he faced the nurse who had just entered. "Are you sure? Don't you think you should keep her a bit longer? Make sure there aren't any adverse side effects? Make sure... make sure she's going to be okay?"

"Oh, she'll be fine," the woman said with a simple smile, then cast a stern frown at Usagi and waggled a pencil at her. "Just try not to eat so many donuts at one time again, okay?"

Mamoru's jaw fell. He slowly—slowly—turned back to see Usagi with crimson cheeks.

"Donuts?"

She fluttered her lashes at him. "Your apology," she said, gently patting his hand, "is heartily accepted."


	60. 31 Weapon

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31. Weapon

Alicia Blade

730 words

"Mina, you've had a lot of dumb ideas since we've been friends, but this one takes the cake."

"Don't you mean, this one takes the heart-shaped box of chocolates?"

Rei scowled. "No—why would I mean that?"

"Oh, Rei-chan, you're just jealous that you didn't think of this first. Would you hand me the tape?"

Rei groaned but passed over the tape as asked, before standing to look over the building's concrete ledge. The wind, frigid and sharp, whipped up her long black hair and made her think of all the hundreds of places she would rather be than on top of a four-story building. Alone with Minako and her crazy ideas.

"Do you see them?" said Minako, wrapping her hand-written note around the shaft of her arrow and securing it with the tape.

"Not ye—oh! Yes, here comes Usagi."

Mina squealed and picked up the arrow and her toy bow, spray-painted bright pink and coated with glitter for the occasion, and joined Rei at the edge. On the street below, harried men and women darted around on the sidewalks, ignorant of the two girls peering down on them. And in their midst was Usagi, practically bouncing with joy, her arms laden with stuffed rabbits and cherry-red cards, happily devouring a chocolate truffle.

"And here comes Mamoru," said Minako, pointing in the other direction. "Right on time." She lifted her bow up and cocked the arrow against the string.

Rei groaned, sensing imminent disaster. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"Hush, I need to concentrate."

"If you kill an innocent bystander, I wash my hands of all responsibility."

"Don't be such a worry mole. I'm an old pro at this."

"An old pro? Mina, how many times in your life have you used a bow and arrow?"

Mina snorted and shrugged Rei's comment off as she pulled the string taut and took aim. "Never," she said. "But I'm convinced I was Cupid in a previous life."

…

The moment Mamoru spotted Usagi bustling down the street with her Valentine's Day haul, a black cloud filled the sky overhead and lightning bolts flared up from his head to his clenched fists. How many admirers did the ditz _have?_

They clashed in front of the arcade's glass double doors. Usagi, finally spotting her mortal enemy, stopped chewing mid-bite with bits of chocolate stuck to her lips, blinked up at the man, then creased her brow into a glare.

"Whadyouwann?" she mumbled, then gulped and licked her lips in an innocent gesture that tipped Mamoru's blood to boiling.

"How pathetic," said Mamoru, "that you feel the need to buy yourself all those presents just to make yourself feel loved on a stupid, corny holiday."

Usagi's eyes widened. Heat flooded her cheeks. She was used to cruelty from Mamoru, but that was just _low. _"I did not buy these for myself! They were all gifts from the guys in my class."

"Right. And I suppose Cupid's _rea—_"

Thwack!

Silenced and stunned, Mamoru slowly lowered his gaze to the thin wooden rod with the heart-shaped tail jutting from his chest.

Usagi also gaped, slack-jawed, and then looked up at the building tops, half-expecting to see a winged figure in a loin cloth darting away. She thought she heard an excited "Bulls-eye!" from far above them, but couldn't be sure.

She looked back at Mamoru, who appeared frozen before her, and wondered briefly if her prayers had been answered and he was dead. But no, the arrow was little more than a suction cup on a stick.

Then she saw the roll of paper wrapped around the arrow and, reaching up, peeled the note away.

"Mamoru," she read, "stop being an idiot and ask her out already. You know you want to. xoxo, Cupid."

Another flush rose to her cheeks, just as Mamoru grabbed the note while simultaneously ripping the arrow from his jacket. "It does not say that," he said, then read it, then sputtered, "Wha—? Who? I don't—!" and then turned quite an endearing shade of red himself.

"Wait a minute," said Usagi, snatching the note back and reading it a second time. "I know this handwriting…." She gasped and crumpled the note in her fist. "_Minako!_"

Her scream was loud enough to send a flock of pigeons flurrying into the air—but Cupid had already left the building.

...

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	61. 72 Fortune

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72. Fortune

Alicia Blade

501 words

"Usagi, what are you doing with your mother's mirror?" said Luna, perched on Usagi's cluttered desk with a suspicious scowl drawn between her whiskers.

"I'm sleeping on it," the girl answered as she tucked the round hand-held mirror beneath her pillow. "Mamoru-baka told me that some people believe if you sleep with a mirror under your pillow, you'll dream of your future spouse."

Luna snorted. "Why would he be filling your head with that superstitious nonsense?"

With a shrug, Usagi fluffed the pillow a few times and slipped beneath the covers. "Oh, he was showing off his knowledge of cultural customs or something dumb like that. But hey, it's worth a try, isn't it?"

"Knowing you, you'll trip out of bed in the morning, break the mirror, and then have seven years bad luck."

Serena glared at the cat, then rolled onto her side with the unspoken declaration of ignoring her pessimistic adviser. She soon fell asleep with a hopeful smile on her lips.

…

Two hours later, Luna was awoken by a low, murmuring voice—soft as a warm breeze against her fur and really rather soothing and delightful. She couldn't help letting out a small purr before she realized that this was definitely _not_ Usagi's voice and, therefore, must belong to an intruder.

Instantly alert, she raised her head off her paws and looked toward the open window. The shadowed shape of a man lingered on the windowsill.

Luna bolted to her feet and arched her back, her skin tingling with warning and her fur on end. She was about to scream for Usagi to wake up before recalling that she was not supposed to speak before other humans, particularly ones that could be villainous, and started hissing instead.

"It's okay, kitty," said the quiet, soothing voice. "Just go back to sleep."

Then she realized, with growing perplexity, that she knew that voice.

In fact, she was quite certain it was _Mamoru's_ voice.

"Meow?"

"I'm just trying to give your mistress sweet dreams," he said, and Luna could now make out the moonlight in his deep blue eyes, focused serenely on Usagi. She bristled again at the term _mistress,_ but curiosity was quickly overcoming her irritation. Furrowing her small brow, she sat back on her haunches and blinked wide-eyed at the man.

"Usako," he murmured, the cat forgotten. "Dream of Mamoru. You're dreaming of Mamoru-baka. You love Mamoru. You want to marry Mamoru…"

Luna could not contain an all-too-human sounding groan, but Mamoru was too intent to notice. With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, the feline curled back up at Usagi's feet and waited with growing impatience for the man to tire of his ploy and go away so she could get some sleep without being accosted with cheesy romantic dreams too.

If only she could have spoken and told the poor boy that he was wasting his time.

Luna didn't need a magic mirror to know that Usagi already dreamt of Mamoru each night.


	62. 40 Pointillism

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40. Pointillism

Alicia Blade

753 words

"Welcome, class, to our final meeting of this extended learning course."

Usagi pouted to herself amidst the crowded classroom, filled with easels, painting smocks, and disappointed groans. The month had gone by far too quickly—she felt like she was just beginning to get the hang of this whole painting thing and now they'd already reached their final session.

She turned to see if any of her companions felt as equally sad at the prospect as she was, but the rest of her friends didn't look anything near heartbroken. Rei was staring out the window in boredom. Ami was poring over some science text book, as she had at the beginning of every class period. Minako and Makoto were both distractedly ogling the cute guy at the back of the room.

Motoki did look honestly disappointed, though, which was nice to see.

Mamoru, on the other hand, looked nothing but relieved as he sat slumped in his chair with his cheek perched grumpily on one fist. Usagi shot him a glare, which he didn't notice or didn't acknowledge, before turning back to the instructor.

Pacing through the center of the room, the teacher continued, "We are going to continue with our work in pointillism today," she said, "as you've all been doing so well with that particular neo-impressionist technique. But today we're going to put a unique spin on it. Instead of working on more landscapes, as popularized by Signac, we're going to combine pointillism with our earlier study on human form, and use the technique to illustrate a live subject." The teacher clapped her hand in excitement and, as the class took out their paintbrushes, she beckoned to someone behind a curtain.

A woman emerged and there was a rustle of surprise through the class. She was enticingly beautiful, with ebony hair, fine cheekbones, and full lips. Wearing a white terrycloth robe, she approached a stool at the center of the group and, without a moment's hesitation, she untied the robe and let it sink to her feet.

Usagi's jaw dropped along with the garment at seeing this stranger standing before her—before everyone—stark naked. A flush blossomed on her cheeks. She looked away and couldn't bring herself to look up as the model seating herself on the stool, the woman's lack of embarrassment more than made up for by Usagi's own discomfort.

But not for herself. After all, this woman didn't have anything she didn't have (except, perhaps, much longer legs, and that gorgeous black hair). But rather, Usagi was humiliated by the fact that Mamoru, of all people, was sitting right next to her in this trying time. His eyes on that same body. Same face. Same hair. His fingers ready to sketch those same curves. His paintbrush eager to combine the fleshy peach and rosy pink to imitate the exact tone of her…

Usagi cringed, her cheeks on fire.

And to think she even be angry, as it had been her idea that everyone take this art class together. But she certainly wasn't happy about this turn of events.

With her stomach twisted into knots, it was only due to sheer willpower that Usagi managed to pick up her paintbrush, raise her tentative gaze to the model, and begin dabbing the canvas with ruthless a vengeance. She no longer cared about finding the perfect shade or detailing the perfect shape; she just couldn't wait for the hour to be over.

Cruel time ticked by, each second punctuated by a dozen paintbrushes smacking their canvases. The teacher made her rounds about the room, commenting on different pieces and offering insights to the intricacies of pointillism and color blending. When she came around to Mamoru, her only comment was a pleased hum, followed by, "Very unique take on the subject, Chiba-san."

Usagi's blood nearly boiled right out of her veins.

Until finally, class was over. The model descended her throne and draped the robe around herself before disappearing behind the curtain. Usagi let out a relieved sigh and sensed her pulse finally subsiding from her ears.

Then, and only then, did she dare to glance at Mamoru's painting, with sickening dread filling her at the prospect of seeing those perfect hips and those divine breasts as depicted by his very hand... But her eyes widened when they fell on his canvas and saw, not the woman's Greek goddess form, but rather… a foot.

Just a foot, and a hint of ankle. And not even a very beautiful foot and ankle at that.


	63. 25 Caramel Apple

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25. Caramel Apple

Alicia Blade

600 words

"One for you, and one for you, and one for Motoki-Onii-san, and one for..." Usagi paused and narrowed her gaze at Mamoru's bemused expression. "All right, I guess you can have one too."

Mamoru quirked an eyebrow as Usagi peeled a caramel apple off a wax-paper-lined baking sheet and held it out to him. He wordlessly took in the apple's perfect sphere marred only by a glob of golden caramel dried flat on its top, and the hint of glossy red skin that circled the popsicle stick jutting from the treat's flesh and held in Usagi's defiant fist.

"It's not poisoned," she said.

He tore his gaze from the apple and looked at her haughty glare—nearly allowing a smile to break through his skepticism—then down at the pink-checkered apron trimmed with lace that hung from her neck and cinched around her petite waist.

"Did you make them?"

"Yes." The hand holding the apple sunk a bit.

"Then how can one be so sure they aren't poisonous."

Usagi harrumphed and smacked the apple, caramel side down, back onto the tray. "Fine, don't take one."

As she spun around, he reached out and grabbed the offered apple by its stick. She paused to watch as he analyzed it more closely.

"Not exactly the epitome of culinary extravagance, but not bad, either."

She teetered for a moment, unsure what he was getting at, before placing her free hand on the apron-draped hip. "I'll have you know that these were not easy to make. First I had to go pick the apples myself—don't look at me like that, we have an apple tree in our back yard. And then I even made real, homemade caramel. None of this melting down of premade caramels. Did you know that it's just sugar and a bit of water? Put it in a pan and keep stirring and all the sudden—voila—caramel."

"Wow. That's all very domestic of you. I'm impressed."

She scowled as he took a big, crunching bite, and chewed, and his eyebrows rose in surprise.

"What does domestic mean?" she asked once he'd swallowed.

"House stuff," he said, still looking at the apple. "That's actually not bad, Odango."

She ignored the flutter in her stomach. "What do you mean house stuff?"

Now he looked at her, and shrugged, still slightly taken aback by the fact that the caramel apple was, really, quite delicious. "You know... cooking, cleaning, baking, gardening.... If you say a girl's domestic it's insinuating that she would make a good w—" He paused with his lips still awkwardly pursed, and blinked at her patient, curious eyes. Then looked at the tray of caramel apples in her hand, and at the pink gingham apron, and at the bite taken from the treat in his own hand, and swallowed.

"...worker."

"Worker?"

"Uh—worker... house worker... maid... type... work."

She said nothing, just furrowed her brow and stared at him, wondering if she should be irritated or flattered.

"Um... a woman's place is in the kitchen?" he ventured, cringing as the words left him. But they had the desired affect, as Usagi's look of confusion turned to one of fiery disdain and she grabbed the apple from his hand.

"Chauvinist jerk," she said, whapping him once on the head with the apple, and then plopping it down firmly on top of his crown and storming away.

He couldn't help sighing in relief even as he peeled the apple from his head and had to pick his own stray hairs from the sticky caramel before he could take another delicious bite.


	64. 79 Naughty

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79. Naughty

Alicia Blade

755 words

She spotted him at the counter, his broad shoulders cloaked in guacamole green and hunched over a mystery treasure, likely a cup of coffee. Glee stirred in the pit of her stomach, mixed with anticipation and a touch of anxiety. Her fingertips were on fire as she searched through her book bag, pulling out the necessary tools of destruction without taking her eyes from the man.

She crept forward on tiptoes, ignorant of the strange looks that other patrons were giving her, staying low so not even Motoki, on the other side of the counter, would see her.

The two men seemed to be having a serious, in-depth discussion. It was perfect. He would be so distracted he would never know what hit him.

A cackle escaped her lips; she choked it back down.

She reached the safety of the counter, and there her target sat, unmoving, not even drinking his coffee—no, she realized with some surprise. It was a milkshake in front of him, and—was that a rose?

She frowned at the rose, then at the two milkshakes, then thought...

Mmmm, milkshake.

She shook her head and quickly closed the distance to his stool with the stealth of a ninja. His voice was low and deep above her, but the words were mostly jumbled up with the noisy arcade. She was glad that the chaos also drowned out the paper that crinkled in her hand as she raised her handmade sign toward Mamoru's back.

"It has to be today," she heard him say. "I can't take this anymore."

She froze, her fingers mere millimeters from his back. He sounded upset. He sounded almost miserable.

Usagi gulped and hardened her resolve. So what if he was? Had Mamoru ever cared if she was upset? If she was miserable?

Gritting her teeth, she stuck the sign to his back with a piece of precut scotch tape, pressing it gently but firmly on the wool jacket.

He didn't stir.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm not saying you shouldn't," said Motoki. "I just think you should go about this a little differently. You know, ease into it. Maybe start by just being nice for once. Otherwise, I'm just worried she might not take you seriously."

Usagi loitered behind Mamoru's stool, torn between the need to escape, and her growing curiosity. What a strange conversation they were having.... But no, she dared not be in Mamoru's presence today. She was too delighted with her brilliant plan to let a confrontation with the jerk ruin it for her.

Turning on her heels, she began to waddle away.

"Not take me seriously?" Mamoru laughed, but it was humorless. "How could she not take me seriously? I'm in love with her."

Usagi squeaked and halted. The floor churned beneath her and she blindly reached for the leg of a stool to steady herself.

Mamoru was in love?

Her heart thumped.

As in... in love, in love?

Her lungs burned.

Was that even possible?

"That's the thing, Mamoru. Right now she thinks you hate her. If you were just to go up to Usagi and say 'Surprise! I'm actually in love with you!', what do you expect her to say?"

Usagi clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Well, I expect her to laugh, but what other choice do I have? I feel like if I have to go another day without her knowing—"

She shot to her feet. "You're in love with me?"

Mamoru and Motoki both started and gaped at her. Mamoru snatched the rose off the counter and hid it behind his back. She barely noticed.

He said nothing. Just stared, openmouthed, as she stared, openmouthed, back at him.

"Well?"

Silence.

"Don't bother trying to deny it," she said, shaking a finger at him. "I heard everything."

Mamoru blinked. Closed his mouth. Gulped. His eyes slid over to Motoki, who shrugged, then back to Usagi. "Um..."

She quirked an eyebrow.

"Ha!"

Usagi jumped at his outburst, and watched, dazed, as his look of terror and uncertainty dissolved into a broad grin.

"April fools!" he yelled. Then he jumped off the stool and half-sauntered, half-ran, toward the exit.

Usagi watched him go, her eyes attached to the crimson rose hidden, but not really hidden, behind his back. That, and the sign she'd thought was so funny that morning.

Ask me about MY odangos.

Then Motoki saw it and burst out laughing, and Usagi couldn't help but smile too.

In love or not, it was still pretty darn funny.


	65. 65 Last Dance

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65. Last Dance

Alicia Blade

1016 words

"When the music starts, the gentlemen will cross the room, bow to their lady of choice, and say, 'May I have this dance?'"

I groaned. I couldn't help it. From my standpoint against one mirrored wall I could see the whole line-up of tittering teenage girls, all flushed with excitement. The feeling was akin to standing in front of a firing squad.

The instructor paced before us, waving jazz fingers through the air as she explained how the mating-ritual-that-is-the-waltz was to be properly performed. "Now, this is important, girls. If a boy asks you to dance, you _may not say no._ You just smile charmingly and accept the boy's hand. And then we'll begin. Just follow my lead."

I felt a heartbeat's worth of hope at these words—_you may not say no_—but that was quickly squashed as my gaze crossed the studio and landed on Usagi. Oddly, her complexion had gone scarlet and she was staring at the bamboo floor. I would have expected her to be overjoyed at this whole waltzing-with-strangers thing, but she looked as petrified as I felt. She was probably dreading the possibility that I could be the one to ask her.

"Is everyone ready?" The instructor clapped her hands and moved toward a small CD player. "When the music begins, you may proceed."

I gulped. My hands were sweating. The radio click as the instructor pressed play and a fantasy invaded my head: screw propriety, this could be my only chance to ever ask her to dance and receive an affirmative response.

The music started. My shoulders clenched as the row of men, myself included, robotically moved toward the row of women. A glance at the mirrored wall confirmed that my cheeks were bright pink. But I moved straight toward her and her still-downcast eyes, and raised my slightly-trembling hand, and opened my mouth.

A voice beside me said, "May I have this dance?"

Usagi glanced up at the stranger. Then her gaze darted toward me and I turned to Rei, beside her. "May I have this dance?" The words came out hoarse, but Rei assented and took my hand.

"You forgot to bow."

"Sorry," I muttered, and together we _one,_ two, three-ed away from Usagi and the boy I didn't know but hated.

We switched partners a half-dozen times as the class wore on, but the courage never came back. Motoki danced with Usagi twice, which was better than seeing her in the arms of strangers because I knew Motoki didn't like her like that. Still. There was a churning in my stomach and my thoughts were all spite. Mostly toward myself. _Coward_ played as a repetetive soundtrack in my head.

And finally the instructor turned the music off and clapped her hands and thanked us all for coming, and my term in Purgatory was over. Motoki and I hovered over the girls as they changed their shoes and talked about what a good idea this had been (Mina took the credit), and someone mentioned milkshakes, but Usagi stayed put when we headed toward the exit.

"I wanted to ask the teacher some things," she said. Her cheeks were still flushed, and her lips were turned upward, but there was a melancholiness to her eyes that worried me. No one else seemed to notice. "I'll meet you at the arcade."

And so we left her, which I hated almost as much as I hated seeing her dancing with strangers.

Two blocks away, I remembered my jacket, hanging lonely on a peg by the dance studio door, and separated from the group, already feeling this was a blessing. To be going toward Usagi was always better than going away from her, and perhaps we could walk to the arcade together. She would complain about it the whole way, but even that was something to look forward to.

I took the stairs to the studio two at a time, and could hear the waltz music before I opened the door. Perhaps another class had already started.

But there were no gym bags littering the entryway, and no voices, only music. I saw my coat draped over the hook but bypassed it. I glanced toward the studio's small office, but the instructor wasn't there, so I stepped into the studio.

Still no instructor, but there was Usagi. Dancing.

By herself.

Her pale arms were up, around an invisible partner. She was turned away from me but I could see her face in the mirror; her eyes closed as she mouthed the steps to the waltz. _One, _two three, _one,_ two three. Her steps were not exactly graceful, but not clumsy either.

Then she took a mistep and growled in frustration. Her arms fell. She stomped a foot and opened her eyes.

She gasped when she saw me. Color immediately flooded her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," I said.

She turned toward me, but I couldn't tell if she was mad, or just embarrassed.

"I didn't mean—I forgot my coat." I gestured toward the evidence on the wall peg, but she didn't look at it. Instead, she shrugged and looked at the floor.

"Doesn't matter. I'm done," she said.

She started walking toward her street shoes, the lone pair still against the wall, when I stepped forward, blocking her. Surprise registered, and before it could turn to irritation, I swallowed hard and bowed.

"May I—" My voice snagged and I tried to clear it, but no more words would form. My face was furiously hot, and I knew I must look like a fool, but the words, and the bow, couldn't be taken back. So I held out my hand.

Usagi stared at my outstretched hand for a long, awkward moment. My fingers began to shrivel beneath her scrutiny. "Y-you don't have to say yes," I stammered. The chorus of c_oward, coward, coward, _now replaced with _idiot, idiot, idiot._

But then her fingers slipped into mine. My heart jolted at the touch. And though she wouldn't look at me, she curtsied, and I detected a small, nervous smile, and her barely whispered words.

"You may."

* * *

please review.

* * *

**Announcing the Form Poetry Writing Contest!**

In honor of April being National Poetry Month, I'm encouraging my readers to try their hand at writing form poetry!

You can write any type of form poetry (haiku, sonnet, villanelle, limerick... pretty much anything but free verse). They can be on any theme or subject (they do not have to be about Sailor Moon, but they can be if you want). They can be funny, sad, romantic, or angsty—it's up to you.

I will post all entries on my blog and maybe a future newsletter (assuming there's enough interest), and we'll hold a vote for the best poem(s) of the bunch.

**Deadline**: Thursday, April 30

**Prizes**: The winner(s) will receive a signed copy of my book of poetry Every Day Will Come (ironically all free verse) and… maybe a banner or an icon or something. I haven't given it all that much thought yet—but I will.

Submit your poems to through my email or web site (both available on my profile page). Be sure to mention poetry in the subject line, and include your name and the poetry form you chose.

Have fun and good luck!


	66. 48 Rosebud

48. Rosebud  
Alicia Blade  
612 words

The wysteria-laced gate that separated the city from the community garden squeaked as Usagi shut it behind her. Instantly, the noise of traffic was dulled to a steady background hum. The smell of exhaust fumes thinned with the pleasant aroma of jasmine and honeysuckle. She paused in the gate's shade and inhaled deeply, breathing in the hope of a new day.

Sure, her roses had been failing steadily for the past month, but today was going to be different. She'd been taking extra good care of them. She'd fed them tons of fertilizer. She'd doused them with gallons of water. She could already picture their pink, happy faces open to the sky, their lush green leaves perked right back up—none of that yucky wilting they'd had last weekend.

She hurried past the vegetable patch and the rows of towering sunflowers to her tiny little plot at the western corner of the garden.

But when she spotted her six rose bushes, her hopes floundered. With a pained cry, she darted toward them and fell to her knees before the smallest bush of the bunch. Though a few buds had attempted to grow big and strong, they'd clearly given up the fight and now sagged with heavy bulbous heads. And on top of that, all of the leaves were covered in a gross white powder that foreshadowed a painful death for her poor flowers.

"Where did I go wrong?" she said, lifting one of the drooping buds with the tips of her fingers.

"Odango?"

She gasped and looked up. Mamoru stood two rows away, holding a pair of pruning shears in one hand and a watering can in the other.

Usagi scrambled to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"Um... watering?" He gave the can a shake; water sloshed over the edges. "What are you doing here?"

Glancing down at her poor roses, Usagi sighed. "Killing, evidently. Wait—you have a garden?" She looked down at the patch of flowers before Mamoru and her eyes widened. "Those are _yours_?"

They were the envy of the garden. A dozen bushes, each bursting with perfect red roses, their petals the softest velvet, the deepest crimson, all held up on the longest, sturdiest of stems.

"Well, um…"

"No fair! How come your roses turn out all picture-perfect while mine look like… like…" She stomped her foot and glared at her own disappointing flowers. "I even _sang_ to them!"

Mamoru quirked an eyebrow. "Well no wonder they've shriveled from misery."

"Oh, shut up."

With a chuckle, Mamoru stepped over the flower beds between them. "Relax, they can't be that bad." But when he spotted her plants up close, he drew back in disgust. "Oh dear."

Usagi covered her eyes. "Tell me the truth. There's no hope for them, is there?" When Mamoru didn't immediately respond, she groaned. "I knew it. I knew this would just be one more thing for me to fail at."

"Well…er… I wouldn't say you _failed_…"

"Yes you would."

Mamoru cleared his throat. "Here, how about this one? This one still looks alive and healthy."

Usagi tentatively removed her hands. Mamoru was fingering a single rosebud.

But not just any bud. It was the most lovely champagne pink, with perfectly scalloped edges, just on the verge of opening up into a perfect, glorious rose. "Oh—I didn't even notice that one before. It's… it's beautiful."

Mamoru met her gaze, a secretive smile on his lips. "Come on," he said, handing her the shears. "I'll show you the best way to prune, and you can borrow my sulfur spray, and they'll be back to their natural glory in no time. Just… promise not to sing."

* * *

If you missed the announcement, the annual anniversary **drabble and icon challenge** is happening now at Usako_Mamoru. Head over to read and write some great drabbles, and maybe even win some prizes! Ends August 3. Link on my bio page.


	67. 4 Karma

4. Karma  
Alicia Blade  
513 words

Mamoru was not in the habit of eavesdropping on teenage boy's conversations—video games not being at the top of his interests list—but when the boy sitting next to him at the arcade counter mentioned _Usagi,_ he had no choice but to tune his ears in that direction.

"I mean, yeah, she's cute and all," the guy was saying to his friend, "but she has the mental capacity of a stump."

The temperature dial on Mamoru's blood instantly switched to boiling.

"But she's so sweet," said the guy's friend. "How can you not like her?"

"I didn't say I don't like her, I just said she's dumb. She's the reasons blondes have a bad name. Well… her and that Minako girl she hangs out with."

Mamoru's fingers clenched, crumpling the newspaper in his hands until the opinionated editorials whimpered for mercy.

"Plus, you know she never studies, but she always cries when Haruna-sensei gives her a bad grade. I mean, what does she expect? _Pity?_"

The fact that Mamoru had used many of these same insults against the girl did not even cross Mamoru's mind. All he could think was, how _dare_ this kid talk bad about Usagi—lovable, cheerful, sunshine-beautiful Usagi? Just who did he think he was?

"Not to mention the klutz attacks."

"Be fair," the friend jumped in. "It's not her fault she's uncoordinated."

The boy snorted. "It _is_ her fault she doesn't pay attention to where she's going. And that she's always running into class at the last minute because she overslept _again,_ and inevitably trips over a desk or a chair or plows into some hapless victim. The girl's a danger to society. She should really be locked up."

The friend laughed, somewhat unwillingly, and red spots flickered in Mamoru's eyes. He practiced his meditative breathing, even as he strangled the newspaper. He reminded himself that karma worked in mysterious ways. Karma would ensure that this boy got what he deserved for talking behind Usagi's back. He would have a horrible, meaningless life. He would die old and alone. He would one day overhear _his_ friends talking about _him _in such a mean, condescending manner, and he would break down and cry like a baby on national television and everyone would laugh at him.

Hell, just the fact that this boy couldn't see Usagi for what she really was—an angel, a blessing, a glowing star in an otherwise dark and dismal world—was punishment in itself.

"Maybe if she ever showed a hint of maturity I could let it slide, but she doesn't. And people ignore it because she's 'nice,' but that just spoils her even more, so whenever something doesn't go her way she turns into a human sprinkler and—"

Mamoru's hand whipped out, the back of his hand smacking the boy's head and knocking him off the stool. The boy yelped and landed, sprawled, on the linoleum floor. Rubbing his head and cursing, he turned to gape up at Mamoru.

"Sorry," he said, smiling. He rubbed his shoulder. "Had a twitch."

Sometimes karma could use a little help.

* * *

If you missed the announcement, the annual anniversary **drabble and icon challenge** is happening now at Usako_Mamoru. Head over to read and write some great drabbles! Ends August 3. Link on my bio page.


	68. 81 Nature

81. Nature  
Alicia Blade  
100 words (WOO TRUE DRABBLE!)

"He loves me."

Another pluck.

"He loves me not."

Another wish.

"He loves me."

Another petal discarded.

"He loves me not."

Another longing prayer.

"He loves me . . . ?"

Until a single petal remains, and—

"He loves me _not._"

Usagi growls and throws the stamen onto the growing pile of its peers, all brutalized and disfigured and forgotten. Without mercy, she snatches up the next flower, roots and all.

She sucks in a breath.

"He loves me . . ."

After all, there are a trillion daisies in this field.

Surely, _one_ of them must have a clue.


	69. 92 Apron

92. Apron  
Alicia Blade  
366 words

I strolled through the gate with a watermelon tucked under one arm. The day was all blue skies and laughter; the noon sun enticing heat waves up from the pavement. There was a pool in the middle of the yard, filled with people I didn't know. A quick scan of the splashing, screaming teens did not turn up any blonde odangos, though, so I lost interest and headed toward the patio where a rich smoky scent was saturating the air.

I passed Rei and Ami with a nod, waved at Minako, spotted Motoki fishing a soda from an ice-filled barrel. Then I saw her, and the anticipation in my gut turned to giddiness. She was standing before the grill, back to me, hands on hips as she stared at an array of meats spread over the coals. A spatula was locked in one fist, a pair of tongs in the other.

"Lord help us if _you're_ in charge of the food."

In the half-second it took for her to spin toward me, her face had already drawn down into its usual scowl and sparking glare. "Oh, great," she muttered. "Who invited _you?_"

I ignored her question. My attention was caught on her apron—a black apron with a ruffled bottom, on which was printed, in bold white letters—

KISS THE COOK

—alongside ketchup-red lips. In case anyone missed the message.

I gulped—watermelon, hamburgers, sunshine forgotten. My imagination was about six steps ahead of everything else. The watermelon would drop to the ground and splatter—a worthy sacrifice. Two strides and she'd be in my arms. Two heartbeats and then . . .

I even knew what I would say. The logic I would use to defend my actions.

_Honestly, Odango, your apron _told_ me to._

"Okay, I'm back!"

I started as Makoto barged onto the patio and snatched the utensils from Usagi.

"Thanks for manning the grill, Usagi-chan."

"Good timing," Usagi said, untying the apron and pulling it over her head. "Mamoru-baka looked ready to faint at the thought of _me_ doing the cooking."

I sighed, the fantasy vanishing like a mirage in the desert. I should have known it was too good to be true.

* * *

If you missed the announcement, the annual anniversary **drabble and icon challenge** is happening now at Usako_Mamoru. Head over to read and write some great drabbles! Ends August 3. Link on my bio page.


	70. 62 Rainbow

62. Rainbow  
Alicia Blade  
473 words

"Who's Roy G. Biv?"

Mamoru peeled his eyes away from the textbook as Usagi's voice penetrated his headphones. Her curious face was hovering over the table, staring at his scribbled classnotes, head listed so that one pigtail brushed Mamoru's forearm.

He had selected the booth in the farthest, darkest corner of the café so he wouldn't be noticed. He had worn his headphones so everyone would realize he didn't want to be disturbed. He had spread his books and papers and laptop over every square inch of the table—saving room only for a chocolate milkshake—so no one would mistakenly think he wanted company.

He knew Usagi had noticed all these things. The only reason she was loitering beside him now was because she wanted to annoy him.

Which had, of course, been his ultimate plan to begin with.

He turned the volume down but didn't remove the headphones. "It's a mnemonic device," he muttered, returning his gaze to the physics book.

"A what?"

"A memory aid," he said with a sigh.

"What is it aiding in the memory of?"

Rubbing the end of his pen against his temple, he said, disinterestedly, "Red orange yellow green blue indigo violet. It's the color spectrum."

She was silent for a minute, then slid onto the bench, forcing Mamoru closer to the wall. He feigned irritation.

"That's a fancy way of saying rainbows, right?"

His lips twitched. "Yeah."

"So . . . you're studying _rainbows_?"

"I'm studying _light._ It's physics."

"Sure it is."

He shook his head and turned the page of the book. Beside him, Usagi settled her elbows on the table and cupped her face in both palms. "I like rainbows."

"You would."

"They're kind of like magic."

He snorted. "If by magic you mean the way that light is refracted off moisture in the Earth's atmosphere, bending at certain wavelengths that appear like bands of color when translated by the human eye . . . then yeah, I guess it's kind of like magic."

Usagi drew herself up in the seat and narrowed her eyes at him. "Actually," she said, enunciating, "I was referring to the symbolism. How the rainbow has represented hope and optimism to so many different people throughout history. How it says to us that no matter how much it rains, the sun will always come out again."

Mamoru tapped the pen against his lips, impressed in spite of himself. "Wow, Odango. That was almost . . . philosophical."

Her seriousness brightened. "Thanks!" she chirped. "But it was a lie."

He quirked an eyebrow. "A lie?"

"Uh-huh. I was actually thinking about Lucky Charms and how the little marshmallows stay perfectly crunchy even while the rest of the cereal gets all soggy if you use too much milk. Mmm . . . speaking of, are you going to drink that milkshake?"

* * *

If you missed the announcement, the annual anniversary drabble and icon challenge is happening now at Usako_Mamoru. Head over to read and write some great drabbles, and maybe even win some prizes! Ends August 3. Link on my bio page.


	71. 60 One Touch

**Another wholesome bunch of drabbles, coming your way!**

60. One Touch

Alicia Blade

586 words

She was through.

She had taken all she could take. She had sacrificed every last piece of her heart that was worth sacrificing. She had given all she could.

She couldn't do this any more.

No longer would she lie awake at night, sobbing into her pillow.

No longer would she walk to school in a daze after being caught by his unsettling blue eyes.

No longer would she hold her breath, waiting for him to speak, only for her hopes to shatter when his words turned to needles and jibes.

She. Was. Through.

She was going to march to the arcade right after school and tell him that she never wanted to see his face again. That she wanted him out of her life for good. That life was too short and love was too important to waste on a man who would never even notice her. A man who would never love her back.

Okay, she probably wasn't going to say that last part, but she would be thinking it.

And then she would march right back out of the arcade . . . and never go back. She would take a different route to school. She would ensure that she never had to subject her heart to his tortures again.

And that would be that.

Her plan, thus far, was going smoothly. She'd made it all the way to the arcade without fumbling or hesitating or even feeling misty-eyed. Her stomach churned, but her resolve was firm.

She squared her shoulders, set her jaw, and marched past the glass doors.

Her masochistic heart trembled at the sight of him hunched over a coffee cup. He held a newspaper and was wearing that awful green jacket. Really, what did her heart see in him to begin with?

_I never want to see you again,_ she rehearsed. _We. Are. Over._

He looked up as she approached, and something in her expression must have surprised him, for he jolted a bit at the sight of her. He said nothing—which was unusual—but seemed to ask a question with his ever-expressive eyes.

Her fingernails bit into her palms. Her jaw began to ache from squeezing too tight. She filled her lungs with the arcade air, and his soap-and-aftershave smell, for the very last time.

"I have something I need to say to you," she said, her voice wobbling only once.

He set down the newspaper, but rather than awaiting her declaration, he squinted and leaned toward her.

"Hold still."

She could not have been more frozen if she'd been staring at Medusa.

His hand rose. His fingertips neared her face. She felt the pads caress her cheekbone. Her knees weakened; the world somersaulted. All the carefully practiced speeches disintegrated in her head.

Then the caress was gone, and Mamoru was dusting his fingers together. "Eyelash," he said, settling back into the booth, spreading his arms over the top of the bench. He peered up at her, all tranquility and innocence. "What did you want to say, Odango Atama?"

Goose bumps tickled her skin and the feathered memory of his touch was still warm on her cheek. All her rehearsed words came back in shreds: your face... my life... love... too important... I'm through with… I never...

She cupped her head in both hands and stomped her foot into the linoleum. "Gah! Why do you always have to _complicate_ everything?"

Afraid to look at him, she turned and rushed from the arcade.

Already knowing that she would be back.

* * *

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	72. 2 Masks

2. Masks  
Alicia Blade  
421 words

He was falling in love too easily these days. Having never known it before, it now felt like each new girl he set eyes on had his pulse racing.

First the princess, the demanding one in his dreams who may or may not actually exist.

Then his flighty superhero in those sexy red boots.

Then Odango Atama, despite all the klutz attacks and the electric smile. Or… maybe _because_ of them.

And now... her. This girl in his arms. This angel, in her rose-studded ball gown and her sweet breath smelling of champagne.

Obviously, it was the hairstyle. He must have a thing for the hairstyle.

She was not a brilliant dancer, but she was just tipsy enough to not fight his lead. Her slender waist was the perfect fit against his hand, covered in luxurious silk. Her fingers were tickling the hairs on his neck—she probably didn't even realize it, but it was driving him mad. He could hardly keep his eyes from her face, heart-shaped and flushed, with bright blue eyes glittering beneath the chandeliers. And those lips, always smiling, always expecting.

Sometimes, from certain angles, she looked like Odango. Or... like Odango five years from now. Like Odango's older sister.

His feet missed a step.

Did Odango have an older sister? What if she did, and this was her, and he was now in love with two sisters?

That would be weird.

She caught his eye. He let his lips curve at the sight of her.

Surely Odango would have mentioned a sister, right?

He craned his head to be heard over the orchestra. "Are you tired?"

She hesitated. But rather than answer, she stretched up on her toes and placed her lips against his jaw.

Surprised arms tightened around her.

She sank back down, ducking her pink face away from him.

"What was that for?"

She shrugged and inched her body against his. "You remind me of someone."

Shyly meeting his gaze, she pulled her fingers away from his neck. He became stone-still as she traced the angles of his silk mask.

"I was just thinking the same thing." His thoughts were a haze—what if she were his princess? What if she were Sailor Moon? What if she were . . .

But no. She couldn't be Odango. She had no mask to hide behind.

She smiled, but her eyes were distant and sad. She dropped her hand without removing the mask.

They continued dancing, each one imagining a stranger in their arms.

Each one mistaken.

* * *

A teaser for my 2009 nanowrimo novel will be posted to my newsletter next week—don't miss it! Sign up at aliciablade dot com.


	73. 43 Shipwreck

43. Shipwreck

Alicia Blade

589 words

"You're stranded on a deserted island. What do you take with you?"

Mamoru peeled his eyes from the newspaper and peered up at Usagi. She was chewing on a pencil eraser, staring down at the glossy pages of a magazine spread out on the booth's table. When he didn't answer, she looked up at him.

"Well?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

"It's a quiz." She jabbed the pencil at the magazine. "Your answer will depict your personality. For example, I would take my stuffed bunny, an enormous batch of my mom's homemade sugar cookies, and a telephone, which means that I'm sentimental and social."

"You needed a quiz to tell you that?"

She frowned. "Just answer the question, baka."

He groaned and sat back in the booth, signaling to a passing waitress for a coffee refill. "Why am I stuck on an island?"

"What does it matter?"

"It could impact my decision."

"How?"

"Do you want me to answer or not, Odango?"

She puckered her lips into a cool glower. "You've been shipwrecked."

"How did the ship get shipwrecked?"

"I don't know . . . it hit a glacier."

"So I'm in the arctic?"

Usagi rolled her eyes. "No, it's a tropical island."

"What are glaciers doing in the tropics?"

"Oh for goodness' sakes, why do you have to be such a pain?"

His lips twitched. He shrugged, holding his mug out as the waitress stopped by with the coffeepot.

"Fine. The ship sprung a leak by mysterious circumstances and you ended up on this island."

"Where's the crew?"

"Dead."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Well how am I supposed to know? They don't give the whole story in this stupid magazine."

"Is there food on the island?"

"There's probably coconuts and stuff."

"Internet connection?"

"No. And no electricity."

"And yet there's a phone jack?"

"It's a cell phone!"

"What are you going to do when the battery dies?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, there's Internet and electricity and all the amenities of the modern world."

"So . . . it's Hawaii, but without all the people?"

She opened her mouth, shut it, tried again, then huffed. "Are you going to answer the question or not?"

Mamoru cupped his face and stared up at the ceiling. Usagi tapped her pencil impatiently against the magazine. When he'd thought for longer than she was willing to wait, she heaved an irritated sigh. "It's not rocket science, Mamoru-baka."

"I can bring anything?" he said. "Even . . . a person?"

Confusion flashed in her eyes as she tried to calculate who, exactly, he meant to take with him.

"I . . . I guess so."

"All right. Then I'd bring an airplane, and a pilot."

He nodded, satisfied with his answer. But as Usagi digested his response, he could see her growing more and more frustrated.

"Hey," he said, holding up his hands before she could accuse him of cheating, "you said I could bring _anything._"

Usagi tucked the pencil behind an odango and rolled up the magazine. "That was only two things," she said through gritted teeth, pulling herself out of the booth.

"Oh, right. I guess my third thing would be . . ."

She paused, hand on hip, and waited.

"You."

The frustration dissipated. "_Me?_"

He took a long sip of his coffee. "Sure."

"Wh-why?"

He grinned, and she must have recognized the teasing expression, because she suddenly tensed.

"In case the plane crashes too, of mysterious circumstances. All those sugar cookies will make you a perfect flotation device."

* * *

A teaser for my 2009 nanowrimo novel will be posted to my newsletter next week—don't miss it! Sign up at aliciablade dot com.


	74. 74 Two Halves

74. Two Halves

Alicia Blade

611 words

She pulled herself onto the kitchen stool, watching her mother whisking a bowl of pancake batter. "Mom?" she began, and her expression must have spoken of rare seriousness, because the whisk froze mid-stir.

"Yes dear?"

"How did you know that Dad was your other half?"

Her mother paused, blank for a moment, before sucking in a long breath as if in preparation for a very, very long story. But then she said, quite simply, "Oh—I just knew."

*

Usagi cupped her face in both hands, waiting for Motoki to drop one of the eggs he was juggling so she could speak to him. But he'd been practicing, and a dropped egg did not seem to be soon forthcoming. "Motoki-san?"

"Uh-huh?"

Her eyes trace the white orbs through the air. "How did you know that Reika was your soul mate?"

Splat. Splat. Splat.

Usagi leaned over the counter to see the mess of yoke and shell on the floor behind the bar. She peered up at Motoki, but he was staring into space, half-smiling. "Well . . ." he said, rubbing his chin. "I'm not sure. I guess I just knew."

Usagi nodded in understanding. "Sorry about the eggs."

He shrugged, glancing down at his mess. "Maybe I should start practicing with lemons."

*

Usagi fanned herself with her communicator, wishing that calling on the Great Fire didn't require there to be quite so much fire. But Rei didn't seem to mind the heat as she knelt on her mat, hands pressed together in prayer, waiting for the fire to reveal . . . something. Anything, really.

Usagi rolled her eyes skyward, swiping at her brow with a sleeve. "Rei-chan?"

The fire cooled, pulling back on the hearth. Rei opened her eyes, already glowering. "What?"

"How did you know that you and Yuuichirou were two halves of the same soul?"

Surprise flashed over Rei's face, then bloomed into a red-hot blush. She clenched her fists and scrunched her shoulders. "What are you talking about? You can't interrupt a calling of the Sacred Fire just to ask stupid, inane questions like that!"

Usagi twiddled her thumbs. "So . . . you hadn't figured out yet that you and Yuuchirou are soul mates?"

"Gah! You are such a twit!" Suddenly too angry to speak, Rei ran for the broom in the corner of the temple, and Usagi ran away.

*

She stretched out in the grass, hands on her stomach, and watched the cotton-ball clouds drift by. Ami, beside her, was reading a textbook the size of her head, highlighting every other sentence in florescent yellow.

"It sure is a shame," said Usagi, "that Mamoru-baka has to be so mean to me all the time."

Ami made a sound of acknowledgment and capped her highlighter. "Yes. You would think a man of his age and intelligence would not feel the need to act so immature around a girl of your age and . . . um." She uncapped the highlighter and looked down at the book.

"Oh, I don't care about that," said Usagi, waving a hand through the air. "It's just . . . he's going to feel so horrible when he realizes that we're soul mates."

Ami's head snapped up. "Soul mates?"

"Oh yes. Didn't you know?"

Jaw agape, Ami slowly shook her head. "Are you serious?"

"Mmhmm." A cloud in the shape of a crumpled test paper skittered by.

"Are you sure?"

"Oh yes. I know it seems far-fetched, but . . . well . . . I just know. And I intend to give him the biggest guilt-trip in the history of apologies when he figures it out too."

* * *

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	75. 90 If the Shoe Fits

90. If the Shoe Fits

Alicia Blade

547 words

"Eeew, this stuff is so gross!"

"Sailor Moon, would you quit whining and toast that thing already?"

"I can't!" Sailor Moon whined. "I'm stuck! It has my boot!"

From behind a protective lamppost, Tuxedo Kamen rolled his eyes. She may be cute, but sometimes . . .

"Take the boot off," said Mars through gritted teeth.

Sailor Moon stopped sniffling for long enough to blink down at her shiny red boot, covered to the ankle in icky brown youma goop. "Oh. That's not a bad idea."

"Mercury bubbles!"

"Sailor Moon, would you hurry up?"

"Sorry, sorry, be right there!"

Tuxedo Kamen waited to see if he would be needed in the battle, a single rose gripped in his fingertips. Watching Sailor Moon struggle to free her boot from the sticky mass was far more entertaining than watching the fight—and Mercury and Mars seemed to have everything under control, despite Mars's bickering.

Sailor Moon planted her free foot on the grass, gripped her pale thigh with both hands and tugged—and tugged—and tugged. Until her leg came free of the patent red boot and she stumbled back with a yelp, landing squarely on her behind with two long legs—one booted, one bare—sprawled out before her.

Tuxedo Kamen diverted his gaze, a blush inching up his neck.

"Now, Sailor Moon!"

Still disgruntled, the heroine pulled herself to standing, faced the monster, inhaled a chest full of air, and threw her tiara.

The youma's scream filled the park—and then silence.

Tuxedo Kamen smiled. Though he always liked feeling appreciated during the battles, he also enjoyed seeing the girls defeat their enemies all on their own.

"Oh, look at my boot." Sailor Moon fisted her hands on her hips, pouting down at the shoe as the brown goop quietly sizzled into the grass. The leather was caked in the muck—and it did not seem to be coming off.

"You will get a brand new one when we transform again," said Mercury. "Come on, we'll help you." Sailor Moon draped her arms over Mars's and Mercury's shoulders and together they limped toward the lake, leaving Tuxedo Kamen alone in the shadows.

He waited until he was sure they were gone before slipping from his hiding spot and approaching the boot. Most of the youma remnants had disappeared, but the foot of the shoe looked like someone had doused it with acid.

Still. It was her boot.

He scratched his jaw, pondering the clue. If he could safely get it to the science lab at school, swab it for dead skin cells or perhaps a speck of blood, run a DNA test, hack into the government's confidential records and search for a match—

Or . . .

He grinned to himself.

Or he could go about it the old-fashioned way. Take the boot to the arcade, to the girl he suspected . . . hoped . . . wished . . . and see if it fit.

All Prince Charming like.

But both plans were foiled. As Tuxedo Kamen reached for the golden moon medallion at the top of the boot, somewhere by the lake three superheroines were detransforming into normal civilians once more.

The boot disappeared in a gust of starlight, taking the secret of her identity along with it.

* * *

A teaser for my 2009 nanowrimo novel will be posted to my newsletter next week—don't miss it! Sign up at aliciablade dot com.


	76. 86 Tackle

86. Tackle

Alicia Blade

305 words

She relished the feel of her feet pounding the turf—her heart hammering in her chest—the helmet rocking on her squished pigtails. Her target came into sight. The thrill of the chase overtook her. All her energy pooled in the base of her feet. She sucked in a breath. Her legs turned to springs, launching her forward. Airborne, she braced herself for impact.

"Ooph!"

Thud.

"Oww…"

Usagi sat up and removed the helmet, rubbing her forehead where helmets had collided. Beneath her, Mamoru struggled to get up, muttering nonsense in some foreign language—she suspected that the words would not be appropriate for her youthful ears.

"Odango," he said with a grunt, "are you an idiot?"

She snorted, the insult beading up on her pride like rain on a freshly waxed car.

The whistle blew, followed by Rei screaming from the sidelines. "Odango! Are you an idiot?"

Usagi peeled herself off of Mamoru and sauntered over to Coach Hino. Rei's anger seemed to simmer down when she noticed Usagi's delighted smile.

"What are you thinking?" she hissed.

Usagi tucked Rei under her shoulder and huddled beside her. "Rei-chan, don't you see? The padding, the adrenaline, the participation in a sport in which tackling is encouraged? How can I not take this opportunity to knock him down every chance I get?"

Rei cast a look at Mamoru as he brushed grass from his knees.

"But this is supposed to be touch football!"

Usagi shrugged. "I have no regrets."

"But—Odango! _He's on our team._"

"Well whose fault is that, team captain? Besides, Rei-chan," she straightened, flipping her hair over her shoulder, "it doesn't matter if you win or lose, right?"

Without waiting for an answer, she headed toward the 50-yard line, popping her knuckles. "All that matters is how many bruises Mamoru will have in the morning."

* * *

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	77. 99 Geek

99. Geek

Alicia Blade

634 words

"A sense of humor," said Makoto, with an indifferent shrug. "I know it's cliché, but it's true. I love a man with a sense of humor. It's the sexiest thing in the world."

Minako scrunched up her nose. "It's attractive, for sure, but calling it _sexy_ is a stretch. A funny joke may make a guy appealing, but it doesn't make me want to pounce on him."

"Really?" said Rei, leaning back against the booth. "I'm amazed there's a characteristic that _doesn't_ make you want to pounce on a guy."

Minako waved the comment away, just as Motoki arrived at their table with a tray of milkshakes. "What really turns me on," she said, pretending to lower her voice, which only served to draw more attention to her words, "are broad shoulders. When a man is tall and strong and has those arms that just dwarf a girl . . . whew!" She fanned herself with her fingers.

In the next booth, Mamoru quirked an eyebrow toward Motoki, and saw a flash of surprise cross his face. Instinctively, Motoki set the tray down on the table and squared his shoulders, holding the stiff posture while passing out the drinks.

Mamoru snorted and shook his head.

Unluckily, Minako did not seem to notice Motoki's sudden growth spurt, and Motoki was sent away from the booth with a round of mild thank yous.

Still smirking, Mamoru returned his focus to the textbook before him.

"What do you think, Usagi?" said Makoto, unwrapping her straw.

The words on the page blurred; Mamoru's ears perked up.

"Oh, I don't know," said Usagi, with a faint hint of whimsy in her voice that suggested she _did_ have an opinion, but wasn't convinced she should share it. "A lot of things make a guy attractive. You all had good points."

"Don't be boring," said Rei. "Everybody's different."

"Yeah, Usa-chan," said Minako. "We want to know what gets _your_ engine revved up." She and Makoto tittered, and Mamoru realized that his jaw was aching and forced his teeth to unclench.

Usagi slipped a spoonful of whipped cream into her mouth. The girls waited, while she hummed thoughtfully and licked her lips. "Well," she started, "lately I've had a . . . sort of a thing for . . . uh, glasses. On guys."

"Oh!" Ami straightened, showing the first inkling of enthusiasm since the topic had come up. "Me too!"

The other girls just frowned.

"Glasses?" said Rei. "Like . . . on Umino?"

Usagi's eyes widened. "No! Not like . . . I mean, some guys look really good in them. It makes them look . . . you know . . ."

"Brilliant," said Ami. "And _that_ is sexy."

"Yes!"

Rei swirled her straw through her milkshake. "Okay, I get it. You're turned on by the thought that a guy might be able to write your book reports for you."

The table burst into laughter, except for Usagi, whose embarrassment doubled with anger.

Mamoru gaped at the red-faced girl, not realizing that he was staring. Not realizing that one hand was trailing across the table in search for the little green carrying case that held his little black-framed reading glasses. The ones he despised. The ones he never wore. The ones that suddenly seemed not so bad.

And then he spotted Motoki near the counter. Their eyes met, Motoki's mocking and victorious.

Heat crawled up Mamoru's neck and he pulled his hand back to his textbook, dropping his gaze.

But his history book was forgotten as he stared at the page before him. He knew he would ace the test, and he had more pressing things to think of . . . like how hard could it be to convince Motoki his ancient reading glasses had suddenly become prescription.

* * *

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	78. 46 Time

46. Time

Alicia Blade

634 words

He watched from three booths away, head lilted, brow furrowed, a forgotten pen stuck mindlessly to his lower lip. He wasn't quite sure what made the sight so captivating—the intensity with which her hand scrawled across the paper? Her heavy breathing as if she'd just run a marathon? The panicked squeal when the egg timer beside her announced a single minute had passed?

All he knew was that he was mesmerized.

The egg timer chimed. Usagi gasped, her entire body freezing, her pencil stalling mid-word. Then she released all her pent-up energy as a balloon deflated. The pencil clattered to the booth table. She leaned back against the cushioned bench, inhaling a measured breath, and stretched her arms up above her head. It was the same practiced stretch she'd done every fifteen minutes for the last two hours. Mamoru could have counted the beats as she popped her knuckles out in front of her, rolled her neck side to side, grunted as the tension released from her shoulders.

Then, setting her jaw, she picked up the pen, hit the start button on the timer, and hunkered back down over her notebook as if the break had never occurred.

"Okay—I give up," he half-yelled across the dividing booths. "What are you doing?"

She gasped, a burglar caught with her hand in the case, and gaped up at him. The tick-tick-ticking of the egg timer was matched by her nervous, twitching fingers. "Nano-ing," she said in a gasping breath, then turned her head back to the paper.

Mamoru blinked and, after a moment of ticking and scribbling, got up and moved to the bench across from her. "You're what?"

"Nano-ing. No time to talk."

"What's 'nano-ing'?"

She released an exasperated grunt and slammed her hand down on the timer, stopping it mid-tick. "National Novel Writing Month?"

He stared.

"Nanowrimo?"

"Nanowhato?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm writing a 50,000 word novel and I only have 30 days to do it and I'm already way behind and that's why I don't have any time to sit and jabber with you about what I'm doing and try to explain the whole process okay I've really got to get back to work now."

Thunk on the egg timer, and she was off again. Mamoru gaped at the madly scratched words, filling up line after line, page after page, that would probably be completely illegible 30 days from now.

"So…" he drawled. "What's your novel about?"

"A girl."

He cupped his chin in one hand. "Sounds fascinating."

"It is."

Another minute was counted off.

"What else is it about?"

Half-expecting her to yell at his interruptions, Mamoru was surprised when she instead sat up, paused the timer, and heaved a dreamy sigh. "Well. It's about this girl who's fourteen years old and she's a high school student by day and a superhero by night and she meets and falls in love with this other superhero who's really awesome and gorgeous."

"That's it?"

"No, that's not it! It becomes complicated when she meets this other totally awesome and gorgeous college guy and begins to fall in love with him too and she can't decide which one she loves more, all the while facing grueling battles between good and evil and trying to save the world and stuff." She stared into space, plot bunnies dancing before her hazy eyes. "It's autobiographical."

Mamoru quirked an eyebrow. "So which one does she end up with?"

"Oh." Usagi drew herself back to earth and lowered her gaze to the mess of words sprawled out before her. "It seems . . . neither. At this rate."

"How many words do you have?"

"5,000 or so."

His lips quirked as he slid out of the booth. "Sounds like she still has plenty of time."

* * *

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	79. 100 The Perfect Ending

**A sequel to 46. Time.**

_(I had been hoping to save this theme for last, but it's just too fitting . . . plus, it's 100 words – true drabble!)_

100. The Perfect Ending  
Alicia Blade  
Words: 100

Usagi stumbled into the arcade—dark circles beneath her eyes, hair a tussled mess—and sank down onto a stool.

"Coooooffeee..."

Mamoru eyed her suspiciously and slid his mug into her outstretched hand.

"Did you finish your novel?" he asked.

"Uh-huh. At 11:49 p.m."

He grinned. "Congratulations, Odango. That's quite the accomplishment."

Her response was a muffled groan.

"So did your heroine end up with the dashing superhero or the charming college student?"

Usagi squinted at him with bleary eyes. "Oddly enough... both of them." She sighed longingly and cradled the coffee cup to her chest. "So much for autobiographical."


	80. 11 Past

11. Past  
Alicia Blade  
1,085 words

She slumped into the back seat of the bus, cradling her purse on her lap, and shut her eyes against the sun's glare. It was setting earlier these days, the summer creeping into autumn. Soon it would be pitch black when she left for work in the mornings—and pitch black when she headed home. But today the warmth of the sun's rays were warm, tender, comforting after a tedious day of phone calls and printer jams.

Someone settled into the seat next to her and she squirmed closer to the window. Soon the bus would be standing room only—how lucky she'd gotten one of the coveted window seats.

A faint scent reached her nostrils.

Her heart leaped, though she wasn't at first sure why. She opened her eyes. Outside the window was a cityscape blur—concrete and cars. But the aroma lingering over her shoulder was spice and mountain air, soap and pine needles and just a hint of cappuccino.

Every nerve in her body tensed, even as she internally chastised them. She was being silly. She was being overly nostalgic for a simpler time, a simpler existence. High school. Drama. Crushes.

The person beside her opened a newspaper. She could see the big sheet of gray paper unfolded in the corner of her vision. Without moving, she slid her gaze as far as she could—picking out a man's left hand.

Strong. Slightly tanned. No wedding band.

She felt heat rising up into her face. She was being silly. Overly nostalgic. And yet, she had ever only known one person that smelled like that peculiar, yet perfect, combination.

She leaned back, pressing the back of her head into the seat in an effort to catch the man's reflection in the window. All she saw was more newspaper and the cuffs of a dark blazer—blue, not guacamole green.

She bit down on her lip. Processed. Planned.

She turned her head down, pretending to fumble in her purse for something—anything—while her eyes peered out through her lashes. She could see his full arm—muscular, it seemed, but so hard to tell beneath that thick sleeve. He must be overheating in the sunlight magnified by the windows, yet he seemed completely at ease. Slightly slouched. He thumbed to the next page of the paper.

_She,_ on the other hand, was stiff with sudden anxiety. Her knees locked together. One hand gripped her purse handles while the other emerged, curiously victorious, with her cell phone.

She blinked down at it. Should she pretend to make a phone call? What if it was him, and he recognized her voice? Did she _want_ him to recognize her? Did she want him to say something?

Turning back to the window, she slyly turned her phone to camera mode, angled the viewer toward the man beside her while pretending to inspect the phone's volume button, and clicked the capture button.

The phone made an incriminating, falsified shutter sound. Her heart nearly strangled her.

The man beside her chuckled. "Yes," he said, tuning to another page of the paper. "It's me, Odango."

She snapped her head toward him, her breath hitching.

Yes. It was him. He was looking at her sideways, complacent, half-smiling, as if he'd seen her every day for the past six years.

He had not changed, except, perhaps, his hair was a little shorter. His fashion sense slightly updated for the working world. But his eyes—that same spine-tingling blue. His lips—smirking that same pulse-throbbing smile.

He had not changed. Evidently, neither had her uncontrollable, instinctive reaction to him. Her stomach fluttered. The ocean roared in her ears. Her fingertips itched. Her lips—

"You knew it was me?"

"Of course."

"And you sat next to me anyway?"

He tilted his head a bit more toward her, the smile fading, just so. "Well, there weren't that many options, but . . . yes." Then his raised both eyebrows and she could not tell if he was honestly asking or just being facetious when he said, "Is that a problem?"

She snapped her lips shut and considered the question. "No," she said a moment later. "I just . . . I'm just . . . do you always ride this bus?"

He shook his head. "I was downtown for a meeting today."

"Oh." Well, _that_ sounded important.

The bus dinged, and Mamoru glanced up to see which stop they were nearing, before returning his gaze to her.

"Where do you get off?"

"Tenth," she answered automatically. "You?"

"Seventh." The stop before hers. The next stop.

Panic welled inside her chest at the realization—one more step and he would be gone. This could be the last time she ever saw him, for real. This was a once in a lifetime event, an act of fate, a willed occurrence of destiny. And yet, as the bus dinged again and began to slow, she could think of nothing to say but, "So—how have you been?"

The words came out weak, tired, resigned. She had had zero defenses against him when she was fourteen. Clearly that hadn't changed either.

"Fine . . . you?"

She shrugged. "Fine." A heartbeat, in which she fished for the expected, "Working. You know."

He glanced up at the front of the bus, with its red sign flashing "STOP REQUESTED" at them. Then he faced her again, opened his mouth, hesitated.

The bus stopped. "Seventh and Sakura."

But he didn't move.

"Isn't this—?"

"Do you have plans tonight?"

Her lungs constricted. "Plans?"

He nodded, his gaze penetrating, curious, but also . . . was she only imagining, hopeful?

"No," she said, perhaps with more enthusiasm than was necessary. "No plans. Nothing at all."

The bus doors whooshed close and the driver began pulling back into the street, and if Mamoru was upset about missing his stop, he showed no signs of it.

In fact, his expression was relaxing, lightening just so. "Do you want to—"

"Sure."

"Grab dinner?"

He blinked, surprised, and as a blistering blush covered her face, she ducked away. "Just, you know . . . to get caught up," she said.

Hearing the crinkle of the newspaper, she dared to glance up again, and watched as he rolled the paper up neatly. Smiling.

No. _Beaming._

"Exactly," he said, and—good heavens—_winked_ at her. Usagi could have sworn the floor had fallen out beneath her, but no, it was just the bus, slowing again. "Just to catch up."


	81. 28 Same Old Song and Dance

28. Same Old Song and Dance  
Alicia Blade  
607 words

"Lose ten pounds," she started, counting off on her fingers. "Floss every day. Remember to take my multivitamin. Drink eight glasses of water a day. Eat five to six servings of fruits and vegetables."

"These sound familiar," Rei deadpanned.

Usagi started on the other hand. "Learn to cook something other than ramen. Make my bed every morning. Never be late to class. Turn in all my homework on time. Put ten percent of my annual income into savings."

As she paused to take a deep breath, Makoto asked, "What income?"

Usagi briefly hesitated, and continued on the first hand again. "First, get a job, _then_ put ten percent into savings. Volunteer for a charity one weekend a month. Read one non-school book a month. Write in my journal every night. Don't get in so many fights with my brother."

"Usagi-chan," said Ami in her gentlest, most understanding voice. "You have the same resolutions every year and you never keep them. Don't you think perhaps you should just pick one goal to focus on at a time?"

Usagi gave a quick shake of her head. "No way. This year is going to be different. I'm going to come out of it stronger, smarter, and healthier. You are looking at a Brand New Usagi-chan. Now where was I?" She started on the second hand again. "Oh, right. I'm going to learn CPR. Participate in more extracurricular activities. Read the Sunday newspaper—"

Rei snorted. "Yeah, the comics section."

"Not leave my dirty clothes on the floor when I go to bed. _And . . ._" Usagi squared her shoulders. "The big one. The resolution to end all resolutions."

"This oughta be good," Makoto muttered.

Carefully enunciating each word, Usagi said, "This year, I will _not_ let Mamoru-baka push my buttons."

Rei rolled her eyes, but any retort was halted by a voice approaching them.

"Oy, Ladies. Odango Atama."

Usagi's nails dug into the paneled tabletop as she slowly shifted her gaze to the man beside their booth, holding a large tray of food.

"Hi Mamoru-san," Rei greeted. "Are you working?"

"Motoki's a little behind with the holiday rush so I'm helping out a bit," he said, grinning as he set down Rei's turkey sandwich, Ami's minestrone soup, and Makoto's cheeseburger. "Now, I know Odango also ordered a cheeseburger," he said, looking with sympathy at the blonde, "with a large onion ring and milkshake. But I thought to myself, if I know Odango Atama, she's probably made a New Year's resolution that includes losing an abject amount of weight this year. So I thought I would help you out by foregoing the cheeseburger and bringing you a nice wholesome salad and a glass of water instead." He set down the water and a large plate of spinach. "You can thank me later."

Usagi glared at the salad, teeth clenched. Her hands began to tremble. She could feel the eyes of her friends on her, awaiting her reaction. She could sense Mamoru's piercing, haughty grin as he hovered over them.

Pulling her lips back in a terse smile, she forced her shoulders to relax and fluttered her eyelashes at Ami. "In some parts of the world, it's technically still last year . . . isn't it?"

"That's right. It's still the evening of December 31 in North and South Ameri—"

Emitting a guttural warcry, Usagi snatched her fork from the table and lunged from the booth, chasing Mamoru as he ran (laughing) toward the safety of the back room.

Grinning cheekily, Makoto lifted her cheeseburger in both hands. "You know, I think I'm going to like this Brand New Usagi."


	82. 37 Pocketknife

37. Pocketknife  
Alicia Blade  
692 words

Rumor had it that two initials carved into the trunk of the tree and surrounded by an obligatory heart, would lead to true love and an unbreakable bond between said initial-bearers. This rumor had over time served to make the poor tree one of the most visited landmarks of the park. Its once healthy skin had been turned into a goldmine of graffiti—names and initials, hearts and promises, so interwoven that it was sometimes impossible to tell who, exactly, was meant to be TRU LUV 4EVER'd with who.

That did not stop the hopeful, the superstitious, the dreamers from adding their names to the mix.

Which is why it should not have surprised Mamoru when he spotted Usagi—the most hopeful, superstitious dreamer of them all—hunkered beside the tree, diligent on her task.

And what, oh what, could that task possibly have been?

Mamoru rolled his eyes from afar and tried to convince himself to walk away, but there were too many teases available. And he was not one to pass up a good tease when it came to Tsukino Usagi.

He approached her, hands in pockets, brow furrowed as he entered the cool shade.

"Don't tell me you—"

She screamed and threw her hands up as a robber caught with one hand in a jewelry case. A red pocketknife flew from her fingers. Mamoru yelped and jumped out of its path, barely managing to keep his ear attached to his head.

"For god's sake, Odango, are you trying to _kill_ me?" he barked.

"_Me?_" she said, flattened against the trunk with a hand over her heart. "You almost gave me a heart attack!"

Pulse descending, Mamoru bent down and scooped up the pocketknife. "Who was stupid enough to give you a weapon?"

"It was in our junk drawer." Her hand fell to her side, but she did not budge an inch from the tree trunk. "It comes in handy."

"For defiling public property?"

"Oh, don't be such a fuddy-duddy. Everybody does it."

"Don't be such a lemming," he threw back at her. Snapping the knife closed, he slid it into his pocket. "I hope you don't believe that carving some sappy message into a tree is going to make Motoki fall in love with you."

His reward for the taunt was an icy glare and a pink tongue stuck out at him. But she did not clench her fists and stomp up to him and say ugly, mean things back to his face like normal. It seemed as though she were glued to the tree's bark, hiding her crime from his prying eyes.

Not that he cared to see the proof of what was common knowledge.

"You're such a ditz," he said—one last fruitless jab before strolling away.

"Aren't you going to give me my knife back?" she called after him.

"And let you put someone's eye out with it? Not a chance."

* * *

By the following afternoon, Mamoru had nearly forgotten about the tiff until, jogging along the same path, he spotted the tree. It was alone this time, ancient and beautiful in the afternoon sun, and again Mamoru tried to convince himself to keep going, and again he lost the battle. He approached it cautiously, unsure why the the thought of seeing Usagi's initials sharing a heart with his best friend's should make his teeth grate like it did.

It seemed to take ages for his eyes to pick out her initials among the crowded bark, his fingers guided by so many fresh scars. But when he did find them, his heart gave a jolt.

TU + CM

Surrounded by only half a heart.

His fingers traced the carved letters, his tongue drying in his mouth. He took a surprised step back, dropped his arm to his side. He stared. And pondered. And doubted. And shivered at the impossibility. And a long, long minute later, had to bite down hard on a knuckle to keep himself from grinning like a fool.

Digging the knife from his pocket, leftover from the day before, he crouched like a thief before the tree and carefully finished the heart.

* * *

_**Please review. And note that a revised version of "To the Gentleman in the Back" is now available on my profile page. Enjoy!**_


	83. 95 RSVP

_I can't believe this one was written for Valentine's Day! My goodness, how time does fly. _

_P.S. the annual anniversary drabble & icon challenge is going on over at Usako_Mamoru right now. Be sure to check it out! Link on my profile._

95. R.S.V.P.

Alicia Blade

403 words

Usagi stepped back to admire the most glorious food spread that ever existed. There were six bowls filled with different kinds of chocolate—from white chocolate all the way through one-bite-and-you-just-might-pass-out-it's-so-darn-rich dark chocolate. There were chocolate cupcakes with chocolate frosting and chocolate sprinkles. Chocolate croissants. Chocolate mousse cups. Chocolate-dipped strawberries. Chocolate brownies. Chocolate-marbled cheesecake. Hot chocolate.

And, of course, milk. Lots and lots of milk.

"Wow, Usagi-chan," said Motoki. "That's… a lot of chocolate."

"Thanks!" she said, rocking on her heels. "I was up all night baking."

"Well, I guess chocolate and Valentine's Day do go hand in hand. We might all leave with stomach aches, but I intend to enjoy every bite in the meantime."

Usagi preened and selected a brownie to nibble on.

"Too bad Mamoru's not coming," he said. "He'll be devastated when he hears that he missed all this. You know he lives for chocolate."

Just then, the arcade doors opened and a bright-eyed Mamoru rushed inside. He froze a few steps inside and frowned suspiciously at the foil heart balloons and pink streamers.

A sly grin crept up over Usagi's lips. "What was that about him missing this?"

Motoki's shook his head in disbelief. "How did you convince him to come? I thought he wouldn't be caught dead going to a Valentine's party!"

Usagi finished her brownie and licked the crumbs from her fingers. "I may have fibbed a bit on his invitation," she said as Mamoru sneaked toward them. "Hi there, Mamoru-baka! So glad you made it!"

Mamoru squinted at her, casting a quick glance over her pale pink dress and enameled heart jewelry. "Why do I feel like I've been tricked?"

"I don't know what you mean," she said, fluttering her eyelashes. "You're here for the chocolate party, right? Well, it just happened to coincide with our Valentine's Day party." She gestured to the overflowing buffet table. "Help yourself."

Mamoru's gasped, eyes widening as he took in the heavenly sight before him. Usagi thought she heard a muttered "Hallellujah…" before he grabbed a plate and began loading up.

Motoki clicked his tongue. "That was very tricky of you, Usagi-chan."

"My motives were completely unselfish," she said with a modest sigh. "I just would have felt awful to leave him out of the festivities." Perking up, she clapped her hands together. "But now that we're all here, who's up for a game of Spin the Bottle?"

…

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	84. 68 Thorns

68. Thorns

Alicia Blade

405 words

Mamoru jerked to a stop when he spotted the girl. She was sitting on one of the park's grassy knolls, legs sprawled out in front of her. Scratches covered her bare arms and legs, thin trails of blood stark against her pale skin. There was a rip in her blue skirt, dirt and blood splattered across her white blouse, twigs and leaves stuck in her honeyed hair, fresh bruises on her hands.

Mamoru's blood reached boiling point in the time it took to cross the path to her.

"Who did this to you?"

She jumped, turning her dejected face toward him. Her face was flushed, her eyes damp.

Murder. Murder filled his thoughts. He clenched his fists, torn between wanting to hold her and soothe her, and wanting to hunt down whoever had dared touch her.

"Mamoru?"

"Who did this?" he yelled again.

Usagi shrank away from him. The sudden fear on her face forced Mamoru to breathe, to try to relax. He crouched down beside her and unlocked his jaw.

"Usagi-chan, who did this to you? You have to tell me."

She hesitated, her gaze dropping to her bloodied fingers, and then slowly pointed.

Mamoru followed her finger to a wall of blackberry bushes that bordered the park. The lower branches were trampled. Overripe berries littered the ground, smushed and gooey in the sun. A shred of Usagi's blue skirt was caught on the thorns.

The evidence clunked into place—the scratches, the tears, the bruises that were nothing more than juice-stains. His fury evaporated in a breath. "The blackberry bushes?"

Usagi ducked her head, hiding a growing blush. "I'm making a pie." She held up a bowl that Mamoru hadn't noticed. A dozen berries rolled around in the bottom.

Relief nearly overwhelmed Mamoru. She was okay. She was unhurt. She'd only been attacked by wild vegetation.

Usagi tilted the bowl back toward herself, peering inside, counting. "Do you think I have enough?"

"No," he said, trying not to laugh, "but I don't think you'd survive round two."

Usagi pouted down at the berries. Her disappointment filled up her face in a way that made Mamoru want to hug her and mock her at her at the same time.

Instead, he pulled himself to his feet with a resigned sigh. "Come on," he said, dusting his hands on his pants. "You hold the bowl and I'll reach the ones at the top."

…

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	85. 12 Present

12. Present

Alicia Blade

457 words

Mamoru slumped down at the counter and ticked a finger at Motoki on the other side of the café. Coffee, if you please. He pulled out a textbook before letting his book bag slide down into the space that divided his stool from Usagi's. He paused, took in a long, fulfilling breath and upon releasing it realized that the girl was making a lot of noise.

Hungry slurp of a milkshake. Euphoric moan of pleasure. The bar of a ditty hummed from pursed lips. Toes beating rhythmically against the counter. Thud. Thud. Thud. Slurp. Slurp. Mmmmmmmmm.

He turned to her, mouth open, and was silenced by a palm inches from his face.

Usagi did not look at him. Her open hand became a single raised finger. One moment, if you please.

Mamoru settled back, peering at her.

Slurp. Hum-ditty-hum. Satisfied sigh.

"Okay," she said. "Now, you may speak."

"Thanks for the honor."

She laced her fingers beneath her chin and fluttered her lashes at him.

"Why are you in such a good mood?"

Usagi turned her gaze upward, her contented smile growing. "Nothing huge. Just that that, right there, was a perfect moment."

"Perfect."

"Mmhmm. It's Friday afternoon. I have no homework this weekend. I'm enjoying the best chocolate milkshake in the whole wide world. I have wonderful friends and a loving family. I'm young and healthy and have my whole life in front of me. I just thought that I should enjoy the perfection while it lasted." She twirled her hand at him. "And then, of course, you showed up, so I had to enjoy it a bit faster."

Mamoru smirked. "Must be nice, not having any problems, any responsibilities . . ."

"I have problems and responsibilities." Usagi took another sip of her shake. "Just not right now."

"Yeah, right."

She slid her gaze down to the anatomy textbook sitting on the counter. "Maybe if you put that thing away for twenty seconds, you'd have a perfect moment too."

"Maybe some of us need to study."

Usagi snatched the textbook off the counter and set it on the next stool. "Twenty seconds, Mamoru-baka. It's not going to kill you."

Mamoru went to retort, but she shut her eyes took a huge slurp of the shake, effectively shutting him out.

Motoki arrived a second later, setting a full cup of coffee in front of Mamoru. "Sorry that took so long. Can I get you anything else?"

Mamoru looked at Usagi. Her lips twitched.

He rolled his eyes. "I guess I'll have a chocolate milkshake," he grumbled. Then, noticing Usagi's near-empty glass, he heaved an irritated sigh. "Make that two."

As Motoki bustled away, Usagi finished her shake and hummed a tune of blissful contentment. "Ah, perfection."

…

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	86. 15 Mistake

15. Mistake

Alicia Blade

372 words

Mistake #1 was listening to the lunatic voice in my dreams as though there might actually be a mysterious, faceless princess out there who needed my help. And obsessing over this "Ginzuishou" crystal for hours upon waking, even making the mistake of googling it once. (No hits found, and no I did not mean geisha.) This led to the really dumb mistake of deciding to ramble through all the local jewelry stores, because where else was someone supposed to find a mystical, magical, power-to-rule-the-world crystal?

Mistake #2 was loitering outside the Osa-P jewelry store for too long, wondering what exactly I was going to ask the clerk ("Ginzuishou. Yes, that's right. Oh, you've never heard of it either, huh? Do you think you could check with your suppliers?"). It was during this interior monologue that the crumpled test paper hit me.

Mistake #3 was uncrumpling the test paper.

Mistake #4 was opening my big mouth.

"A thirty! Out of a hundred?"

Mistake #5—and this is a big one—was looking up.

And seeing her. And noticing the flushed cheeks, and the flashing sky-blue eyes, and the streamers of honey-blonde hair, and realizing in an instant that she was cute, that she was vibrant, that she was not a dream . . . and speaking again despite all my better judgment.

"You need to study harder, Odango Atama."

She growled and snatched the paper away from me. "It's none of your business!" she said, storming off.

I probably should have called after her (#6) especially when she paused halfway down the block and turned back and I actually held her baffled gaze (#7) as a most peculiar feeling crept up my spine.

Weaker than a memory, but stronger than instinct.

There was just something about her.

I didn't go into the jewelry store that afternoon (not a mistake). Instead, I meandered half-dazed toward the arcade where my best friend poured me a cup of coffee and asked me, in an uncanny display of psychic abilities, what was wrong.

I shook my head. Frowned. Thought again of the blonde pigtails dancing behind her as she marched away from me and faded into the crowd.

"I think I just made a huge mistake."

…

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	87. 49 A Familiar Song

49. A Familiar Song

Alicia Blade

463 words

The strangest part about Sailor Moon's transformation is not the spectacle of bright lights and lasers. Nor is it the magical ribbons that flutter out from some inter-dimensional space pocket, wrap themselves around her body, and become rock-solid patent boots and a satin bodysuit. It's not even that brief moment when Sailor Moon is nude that's strange—intriguing, yes, in that "I know I shouldn't look but I'm probably going to anyway because, come on, I'm a 17-year-old guy" kind of way—but not strange.

No, no.

It's the theme music.

The electric guitar. The organ. The synthesizer, for heaven's sake, like she's a superhero stuck in the eighties or something.

And—and—back-up singers! The girl has back-up singers!

It's even kind of catchy. Admit it. "OOOOOOooooooh, Saila' Moon!"

Where does it come from? Who makes up this elusive chorus? Inquiring minds want to know.

And trust me, I've sought out the answers many times, even in the heat of battle. After all, that theme music is often the first indication to me that something is wrong. Sailor Moon is nearby and in need of help. It is time to prepare for battle. The music is important, albeit a little dated and cheesy. It's symbolic. It has meaning. It's—it's—

It's right behind me.

"OOOOOOooooooh, Saila' Moon!"

I swing around on the stool so fast that I lose my balance and collapse over onto the next seat, sliding down to the floor with feet flailing. Despite my frenzy, I manage to reach inside my jacket for the rose that lives in my own inter-dimensional space pocket.

I freeze just before my transformation can begin.

Odango Atama is standing before me, gaping down at me with wide eyes, an ice cream cone millimeters from her lips.

I blink.

She stares.

"Um." I glance around the arcade. No ribbons. No lights and lasers. No superhero. "Were you just . . . singing . . . something?"

Usagi lowers the cone. "What's it to you?"

I clear my throat and use the stool to hoist myself back to my feet. I make a show of brushing myself off. Gathering my composure. Feigning dignity. "Nothing. It just . . . sounded familiar. That's all. Um. Enjoy-your-ice-cream-bye."

I rush out of the arcade, pulse pounding. Thoughts thrum in my skull. Synapses connect. Coincidences sharpen.

Odango Atama. Sailor Moon. Odango Atama. Sailor Moon.

Eureka.

Usagi is one of Sailor Moon's back-up singers!

Wait.

I freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, squinting into the sunny glare off the buildings.

That's just crazy-talk. Odango has a terrible singing voice. She must have overheard Sailor Moon's transformation once when she was near an attack or something.

I inhale a calming breath, convinced. After all, the most obvious explanation is usually right.

…

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	88. 83 Mail

83. Mail

Alicia Blade

660 words

Mamoru was not overly concerned with fashion. Most of his dress shirts were obtained off the clearance rack (what do you mean, real men don't wear salmon pink?) and his favorite avocado-green jacket was, admittedly, a thrift store find, but one that still had the tags, so clearly the previous owner had never worn it. He couldn't imagine why.

And then there was his nighttime ensemble: tuxedo, cape, top hat. Swoon as the women might, even he knew that he looked like a fool in it. He didn't let this bother him. He had other things to worry about—like, um, saving the world. And stuff.

But despite his nonchalance toward clothing, even he sneered in revulsion when Motoki opened the garment bag he'd stashed in his trunk.

The garment bag that held a shiny, jingling chainmail tunic.

"I'm not wearing that."

"Yes you are," said Motoki, sliding his arms into a leather and metal-studded vest. Evidently, he got to play a barbarian.

"No, I'm not. I would set off every metal detector in a ten mile radius."

Usagi sidled up to him, hand on hip. "Mamoru-baka, they didn't have metal detectors in the Middle Ages."

He eyed her Maid Marian get-up—gauzy ankle-length dress and tall pointed hat—and considered making a "dunce" joke but thought it might go over her head. "I thought this was a Renaissance Faire. Why can't I just wear this?" He gestured down at his dark jeans and simple linen shirt. "We'll say I'm Michelangelo or something."

"Wasn't he a turtle?"

Mamoru glared at Minako who was dressed in a very revealing, very slinky dress, that was evidently made historically accurate because she was also wearing fairy wings.

"Actually," said Rei, herself dressed as a fortune-telling gypsy, "it's not really a 'Renaissance' Faire so much as it is a Fantasy Faire."

Unimpressed, Mamoru glanced around the dry, dusty parking lot. Striped tents littered the fairgrounds past the cardboard castle towers. A dragon and an elf climbed out of the car in the next spot and walked by hand in hand.

"And you have to wear the armor," added Makoto the bar wench, "because otherwise, you're going to get murdered in the jousting games."

Mamoru raised an eyebrow. "Jousting games?"

"Didn't Motoki tell you?" said Minako. "We entered you in the jousting competition. And what a fine knight in shining armor you'll be."

She winked. Mamoru inched away from her. "No. I refuse. I'm not a knight, and I'm not participating in any jousting competition."

"I agree with that first part," said Usagi with a snort. "Real knights aren't such crybabies."

He opened his mouth, prepared to count off all the gazillion times she'd cried over a broken milkshake machine, but Rei stopped him by clamping onto his arm. "Don't worry, Mamoru-san. They pad the javelins, it's not like you're in any real danger."

"That's not the—"

"And if you don't compete, how will you ever win a kiss from your fair maiden?" She beamed.

"My what?"

"It's part of the game," said Motoki, strapping a plastic machete to his hip. "You choose a maiden to represent in the jousting, and if you win, she gives you a kiss. Not a bad incentive, right?"

"Um…"

"And of course, we'll be amongst the maidens you can choose from," added Minako, fluttering her lashes. "And how could you resist that?"

Mamoru looked from Minako, to Rei, to Usagi who was leaning against Motoki's car and glaring at Rei who still clutched his arm.

Then he spotted a Captain Hook wannabe near the gate, ogling Usagi like she was pirate's booty. Mamoru flushed, fists clenching, but it was hard to look threatening to a man with a pointy metal hand.

Although, if he had a javelin…

Growling, he reaching for the armor.

Chainmail was just the Dark Age version of a tux and top hat, after all. Suave, swoon-worthy, a little awkward—and guaranteed to kick some royal pirate butt.

…

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	89. 45 Cape

45. Cape

Alicia Blade

768 words

The ice shard careened toward her. I screamed her name, my heart nearly stifling the sound in my throat. She ducked. The shard skimmed her shoulder, smearing her white satin uniform with a thread of blood. She stumbled. The youma was distracted by Jupiter's lightning long enough for Sailor Moon to recover from her shock and whip off her tiara. A battle cry. The tiara-turned-projectile glowed white beneath the stars and slashed the youma clear in half.

My heart sank with relief back to its normal spot, but it didn't stay there long.

Rather than cheering at her success, Sailor Moon let out an anguished cry and collapsed onto her knees.

"Sailor Moon!" I was beside her first, saw her body wracked by shivers, her teeth clattering so hard I thought they would break.

"The ice shard was poisoned," said Mercury, information scrawling across her computer visor. "Her body temperature is dropping drastically. We need to stop it before hypothermia sets in."

I whipped off my cape and tucked it around her trembling body, pulling her against me. My doctor's training blurred in my mind. Raise the temperature. Body heat. Warm water. Dry clothes.

"Get out of the way!"

Sailor Mars shoved me aside and took Sailor Moon into her own embrace. Her arms, pale against the black satin of my cape, started to glow. Heat emanated from her, comforting as a winter fire.

I gaped, struggling for each breath. Neat trick.

"Temperature is rising," said Mercury. "Heartbeat accelerating. She appears to be stabilizing." She almost smiled. "She's going to be okay."

Energy drained out of me. I would have kissed Sailor Mars if I hadn't been suddenly so exhausted. And if that wouldn't have been really awkward and probably have given everyone the wrong idea.

"All right, let's get her out of here," said Jupiter, swooping the bundle that was Sailor Moon into her arms and turning away.

"Good work today, Tuxedo Kamen-sama," said Mars, standing and following after them.

"I—uh—you too. Thanks." But she wasn't listening to me. The shock of the close call had left everyone too stunned for flattery, or flirtation.

…

Two days later…

I'd never longed so much for a Negaverse attack. Just to see Sailor Moon. Just to be sure she had survived, that Mercury had been right, that she wasn't in some hospital right now dying of pneumonia. I knew I'd be on edge until I saw her again, my head filled with all sorts of horrible possibilities and the memory of her cold, frail body ever present in my thoughts.

"I'm so so so late excuse me coming through pardon me can you please move-aaiii!"

I caught sight of Odango Atama in the crowd half a second before she tripped on who-knows-what and threw herself at me, arms flailing. I hit the pavement with a grunt, hair in my mouth and a petite girl straddling my waist.

"Oh, ouch, I scraped my knee," she said, hunching over to examine the bare flesh in question. "That hurt."

"Tell me about it," I said, rubbing my head.

"Sorry baka, no time to argue with you, I am so late," she said, clambering to her feet.

"Imagine that," I said, standing beside her. It was in the instant before she took off running that I noticed her outfit.

A simple knee-length sundress, black and red and satin and looking like it was sewn by a six-year-old with a stapler.

I reached forward and caught her by the skirt, reeling her back to me.

"Ow! What?" she snapped.

The fabric felt familiar. It was—it couldn't be—

"Where'd you get this?"

She swiped my hand away. "I made it."

"Well I can see that, but where'd you get the material?"

Her mouth opened, hesitated, closed, opened. "Um. A gift?"

"From who?"

"Uh." She glanced around. "A friend?"

I squinted at her. She cleared her throat and rocked back on her heels.

"Odango—"

"Sorry I really have to go, bye!"

She zoomed off before I could snatch her back again, the black and red dress shimmering in the sunlight.

"A friend?" I stuffed my hands into my pockets, scrolling through my mental list of Odango's friends. There was Rei, of course, and Ami, and that tall scary girl, and the short redhead. None of them looked anything like Sailor Moon. Besides, Sailor Moon was head-over-heels in love with me, right? She never would have given my cape away.

So I'd been mistaken. It clearly wasn't my cape at all.

I shook my head and meandered off toward school. Almost convinced.

…

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	90. 87 Hurt Feelings

87. Hurt Feelings

Alicia Blade

441 words

"Ten pounds?" The shrill voice startled the city square, sending pigeons scattering in all directions. "That's the most—what on—who writes these heinous rumors?"

Mamoru paused as he rounded the corner, sure he recognized the voice and yet dubious that Usagi knew the meaning of a word like 'heinous.' But there she was in the little street side kiosk, gaping at the opened, glossy pages of a tabloid. Her cheeks were scarlet and puffed, her eyes devouring the text while her lips curled up in fury.

"What trash!" she screamed, rolling the magazine up before Mamoru could see what had made her so angry. "This can't be legal. It's libel. It's slander. It's . . . it's . . . it's not true!"

"What are you raving about, Odango Atama?"

She spun on him like a startled cat, hackles raised. "You!" she screamed, and then again, "You!" And then, realizing that he was not at fault for her current distress, she pulled her shaking shoulders back and jabbed a finger at her own sternum. "Do I look like I've gained ten pounds to you?"

Mamoru's eyebrows pulled up, his gaze sliding down over her petite frame.

"Argh, you jerk!" she said, smacking him on the head with the rolled-up paper.

Mamoru ducked back. "I didn't say anything!"

"You were going to and it was going to be mean and we both know it."

He didn't respond—knowing she was probably right.

"Excuse me, miss, are you going to pay for that or not?"

Usagi rounded on the kiosk keeper, barely refraining from bapping him a good one too. "What, you want me to pay for this junk? You should pay me for the heartache you've caused. I could have a mental breakdown from this, you know. I might need therapy. I—"

"I've got it." Mamoru pulled a handful of change from his pocket and dropped it onto the counter, then snatched the tabloid from Usagi's hand. She squealed in defiance but he quickly swept it out of reach. "I paid for it, it's mine."

Usagi stomped her foot. "Fine. It's all lies and nonsense anyway." She marched away, muttering something about needing a donut, stat.

Mamoru waited to be sure her tirade had faded into the crowd before unrolling the paper. It was open to the centerfold—a two-page spread of a blurry, gray, hardly recognizable photo of a boy in a cape and a plump girl in a fuku. The headline read: TUX BOY CONFIRMED GAY; HEARTBROKEN SAILOR MOON GAINS TEN POUNDS.

Mamoru blinked. Stared. His pulse rushed past his ears. The paper crinkled, begging for mercy.

"What do they mean, gay!"

…

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	91. 36 Champagne

_The last 10 drabbles in the 100 Themes Challenge are going to be a continuing storyline, lovingly dubbed the Sweet Sixteen Finale series. _

_Enjoy!_

36. Champagne

Alicia Blade

694 words

"I'm gon' tell 'er."

Motoki rolled his eyes, wondering if he could just ignore Mamoru for awhile. He wasn't in any mood to humor him. A measly one year into med school and they were already being forced to dress up and rub elbows with the wrinkled old hospital donors—his shirt collar itched, the hotel's ballroom felt like a sauna, there wasn't a cute waitress in sight, and now he had a drunk, lovesick Mamoru blabbing on about things he would never actually do. Not sober anyway.

"I said, I'm gonna tell her."

"Yeah, I heard you." Motoki peered at Mamoru from the corner of his eye. He was slumped over the table, chin rested on one hand while he cradled a near-empty champagne flute in the other. "You know you say that every time you get tipsy. I'm finding it hard to get my hopes up."

Mamoru hiccupped.

"I wish you would tell her. It'd be a lot better than listening to your whining."

"I love her."

Motoki resisted the urge to gag and instead checked his watch. They'd been there an hour and twenty-three minutes. He figured an hour and a half would be a respectable amount of torture time before they could safely bow out.

"She's too good for me."

"Yep."

"Do you think she knows?"

"That you love her or that she's too good for you?"

"Um…" Mamoru furrowed his brow for a long moment, then swallowed the last of his champagne.

Sighing, Motoki turned to face his friend, elbow propped on the back of his chair. "You know her birthday is in a couple of weeks, right?"

"June 30th. Sweet 16. She wants a party at the arcade and a triple chocolate ice cream cake with a Sailor Moon figurine on top."

Motoki squinted. "Um, sure. Okay. My point is, why don't you tell her then? If you're so inclined."

A waiter stopped by the table and replaced Mamoru's glass with a full one, but Mamoru wasn't paying attention. He was blinking at Motoki like he'd just realized he was there.

Motoki raised his eyebrows. "Well?"

"That's not a horrible idea."

"I have not-horrible ideas on occasion."

"I could give her a present." Mamoru perked up in his seat. "I could give her a whole slew of presents. I could write her a poem, or sing her a song—"

"Please don't sing her a song."

"And then, I'll just . . . tell her. How I feel, how I've always felt. And then I'll . . . I'll do whatever a person does. After they tell a girl they love her."

"Take her to dinner?"

Mamoru snapped his fingers. "Dinner! Motoki, you're a genius."

Another sigh. Another roll of the eyes. Motoki could see where this was going. All this excitement was bubbly-induced, alcohol-driven. Mamoru would never really have the nerve to go through with it, no matter how enthusiastic he sounded while under the influence.

Mamoru picked up his glass and Motoki was hit with another not-horrible idea. "Great, you're finally going to tell her," he said, snapping a small cocktail napkin from the table scribbling across it. "I'm so happy for you. It's about time."

"I really do love her."

"I know you do, bud." Motoki slammed the napkin in front of him. "And so you'll have no problem signing that, right?"

Mamoru blinked down at the napkin, scrunching up his nose. "I, Chiba Mamoru, am crazy in love with one Tsukino Usagi, but am too chicken to tell her when I'm not ine . . . ineb . . ."

"Inebriated."

"Inebriated."

Motoki handed him the pen.

"Um."

"Go ahead."

"I don't know . . ."

"Come on, Mamoru, you're going to tell her anyway, aren't you? On her birthday? No one will ever see this." He shrugged. "Probably."

"Oh, right."

"It's just like . . . insurance. For your future. Your happy, happy future."

"Happy . . . future." Mamoru scratched his temple with the pen, took another gulp of champagne, and signed. "I am gonna tell her."

Motoki shoved the napkin into his pocket. "I never doubted you for a second."

…

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	92. 10 Sweet 16

_Eight drabbles to go! I won't be posting any more drabbles here until they're completed. If you'd like to read them as they come out, be sure to subscribe to my bi-weekly newsletter at aliciablade dot com. You'll also get to read about my progress as I (finally!) finish my manuscript and begin my hunt for a literary agent!_

_This drabble continues the Sweet Sixteen Finale series. _

10. Sweet 16

Alicia Blade

1320 words

After closing hours, the arcade should have been quiet and serene, but on this special occasion it was every bit as hectic as a Friday afternoon. Motoki was balancing precariously on a ladder, hanging up the giant HAPPY SWEET SIXTEEN banner. Rei was wrapping last-minute gifts and muttering about how they shouldn't have to jump out and yell surprise because, in case anyone hadn't noticed, Usagi helped plan the blasted party and it so wasn't a surprise. Ami was about to suffocate from blowing up eight bajillion party balloons. Lita and Mina were at the food table, bickering over the correct placement of the Sailor Moon and Tuxedo Kamen dolls atop the birthday cake. (Lita: "They should totally be in kick-ass warrior pose." Mina: "No, no, they should be locked in a passionate, not-fit-for-children's-eyes embrace.") Plus about two dozen friends from Usagi's school were loitering about, munching on carrots sticks and trying to determine if the roads would no longer be safe once Usagi obtained her driver's license.

It was a jumble. A mess. A party, and Usagi deserved every bit of it.

But Mamoru wasn't paying attention. His stomach was in cords. His heart was threatening to clog his airways. He kept reaching into the shadows beneath the counter to check that his super secret package was still safe, and then questioning his sanity and wondering if he should just run away now because there was no way he could possibly go through with this, but—

No. Stop. Breathe. He would stay. He would give her the gift. Today was the day.

He caught Motoki giving him a peculiar look as he climbed down from the ladder.

"What?"

Motoki shook his head and carried the ladder back into the storeroom. Upon noticing that Rei had finally abandoned the gift table, Mamoru gobbled down a huge breath and slinked toward it. It took only a blink, an impressive slight-of-hand gesture that no one could have possibly noticed. A new package was deposited on the table, behind all the other gifts. Wrapped in dark royal purple paper. Unribboned. Unmarked.

He ran back to the safety of the counter before he could change his mind, colliding with Motoki as he emerged from the back room.

Motoki folded his arms and squinted suspiciously.

"What? Why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"You seem nervous," said Motoki. "You aren't . . . are you . . . you're not really going to . . . you know. Tell her. Are you?"

Mamoru scowled. "I told you I was going to, didn't I?"

"Well, yeah, but . . . you were drunk. I didn't think you'd actually go through with it."

Mamoru would have been offended by Motoki's lack of confidence if he hadn't felt so uncertain himself. Could he go through with this? Two weeks of planning, plotting, daydreaming told him that yes, he could. He had to.

But one nightmare always crept into those dreams. Her baffled disbelief. Her sharp laughter. Her disgust. "You . . . and me? You're not serious, are you?"

"You know," said Motoki, "I wasn't actually planning on giving her that napkin. I was just irritated at you that night."

Mamoru frowned. "What napkin?"

"Here she comes!" someone cried. "Places, everyone!"

There was a mad rush for the counter, swallowing up their conversation. Mad thoughts swam with the pounding blood in Mamoru's head—she's here, she's coming, the package is on the table and I can't get it back, this is really happening, what the hell have I done?

And then she was there, the dusk flowing in around her as the glass doors opened.

SURPRISE! Oh wow, you guys shouldn't have! This is too much. Is that a triple-chocolate cake? How did you—oh, what is Tuxedo Mask doing to . . . oh, Mina!

Laughter. Happy Birthday. Have some cake. Open your presents.

It was all a blur to Mamoru, his consciousness only big enough to encompass the purple box that was ever present in his mind, loud as a lion in the small arcade, and Usagi. All her words, her blushes, her smiles, the occasional glimpse in his direction. She spoke to him once, thanked him for coming, gave some small comment about how he was probably just there for the cake. He couldn't even muster a tease as he wished her happy birthday and swallowed back the three small words that lingered on his tongue.

She moved on, a butterfly amongst the crowd.

Until it was time—Finally! No, not yet!—to open presents.

From Motoki: gift certificates for free milkshakes and French fries

From Lita: a videogame

From Ami: a chick flick DVD and stockpile of popcorn and candy

From Mina: a new purse

From Rei: a Tuxedo Kamen keychain (for when she got a car, of course)

And on and on. Too many presents to count. The pile on the table dwindled. The wrapping paper piled up behind her. The purple box was last. Mamoru had positioned it that way, and now regretted it. So much attention. So many eyes on one little box, and one beautiful girl as she took it into her small hands, glowing.

"Who's this from?"

No one confessed. Mamoru forced himself to hold her momentary gaze as it flitted past him, knowing that to look away would be to look suspicious. Guilty.

What had he done?

"It must be from your secret admirer," Mina said and a ripple of laughter passed through the crowd. Mamoru's nerves sizzled beneath his skin.

Usagi tore off the paper and her eyes lit up. "Chocolates!" she said, yanking off the lid. "Fancy chocolates! And—oh." She drew back. "One's missing?"

Mamoru gulped.

Lita peered over Usagi's shoulder. "Guess your secret admirer got hungry."

Another peel of giggles. Mamoru shut his eyes, forced himself to breathe.

"Look," said Usagi, and Mamoru opened his eyes at the sound of crinkling paper. "There's a note." She read aloud:

Chocolate, vanilla, caramel, cream

In a box made to fit sixteen.

No truffle in the world is sweet as you—

The missing piece is your clue.

A rustle of excitement, of mystery. The room was suddenly electric as gazes passed around the room. Mamoru did his best to act confused himself, but when he met Motoki's gaze there was no secret between them. Motoki knew, and looked mildly impressed. For a moment it buoyed Mamoru's confidence. But only a moment.

"So which piece is missing?" asked Rei.

"It has a key," said Ami, snatching the paper lining from the lid. The five girls crowded together, comparing the glossy pictures to the chocolates amongst the box. Mamoru couldn't keep his fingers from tapping madly against his cup of fruit punch, listening as the odd truffle names were called out.

"Viola?" No, there's a sugar-coated flower on this one.

"Gianduia?" No, I'm pretty sure these are hazelnuts.

"Does that say curry powder?" Yes, this one here, with the yellow.

"It's this one! Ex-o-coddle?" Usagi pointed. "Look, it's the only one without any decoration." They looked, examined, agreed. "Is it trying to say I'm boring?"

Ami read, "It says, 'Xocatyl, a spicy, vanilla-flavored drink favored by the elite ruling classes of the Mayan and Aztec cultures, inspires this milk chocolate truffle. According to Aztec legend, the potent elixir bestowed power and wisdom upon those who drank it.'"

Rei snorted. "Power and wisdom? Good luck with that."

"They're underlined," said Ami. "The words 'bestowed power and wisdom' are underlined."

"I've heard that before," said Lita. "Power and wisdom . . ."

"You're right," said Usagi. "It is familiar."

"I know!" said Mina, jumping to her feet. "The genie!"

Mamoru set his drink down to keep the ice from clinking together as his hands began to shake. He couldn't tell if he was thrilled or horrified that it had been figured out so soon.

Either way, the hunt had begun.

…

_Note: Chocolates in this drabble were inspired by the real-life exotic chocolates produced by Vosges Haut Chocolat. Descriptions taken from vosgeschocolate__ dot __com._


	93. 93 Genie

_Oops! Someone pointed out that I kept switching between the Japanese and American names in the last drabble. That's what I get for writing these last minute. Sorry about that._

**93. Genie**

Alicia Blade

1215 words

Twenty high school kids, Motoki, and Mamoru clustered shoulder-to-shoulder around Azad Ali, the All-Knowing Genie.

Azad Ali was not a _real _genie, or even a human being, but rather a big puppet with glowing eyes that lived inside a glass and metal case that spit out papers filled with mystical gibberish for the low low price of two arcade tokens.

The poor arcade machine was among the least loved machines in the shop, hence, a fine layer of dust had settled over Azad, his engraved lamp, and the top of his glass enclosure. Greasy, child-sized handprints covered the glass in a way that made Motoki screw up his lips and mutter something about needing to Windex that darn thing one of these days.

But it seemed that Motoki was the only one paying attention to the lackluster state of the arcade's resident psychic. Instead, all eyes were focused on the gold script beneath Azad's name:

I WILL BESTOW POWER AND WISDOM TO ALL WHO SEEK THEIR FORTUNES HERE.

"See?" said Makoto. "Power and wisdom. I knew I'd seen it before."

"You're a genius," said Usagi, adding her own handprint to the genie's collection. "But I don't see a gift anywhere." She squinted into the genie's glass prison, searching the drapes of velvet and the genie's MC Hammer pants, but it seemed as corny and non-magical as ever. She looked behind the machine, asked Makoto to look on top of the machine, and checked the token-return slot, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary with the fortune-telling contraption.

"Here's a thought," said Rei. "Why don't you put a couple tokens in and see what fortune he gives you?"

"Right!" said Usagi, digging through her pockets. But her pockets turned up only cupcake wrappers from the buffet table. Six of them. Usagi peered sheepishly at her group of friends. "Uh… does anyone have any tokens?"

Mamoru's palms were sweating again as he lingered near the back of the crowd, refusing to meet Motoki's searching gaze. The crowd rustled, people checking their pockets, but the consensus was unanimous—nobody had come there to play games.

Motoki jerked his thumb over a shoulder. "I can go get—"

"I do," said Mamoru, his voice hoarse as he said them. Dozens of eyes turned on him and he immediately wished he'd kept his mouth shut. Was this suspicious? Was it obvious now that he was the one orchestrating the clues?

But it did not seem, despite all his paranoia, that the group was watching him with suspicion. Rather, they all seemed surprised that the silent guy who'd been loitering in the shadows all night had actually deigned to speak.

Clearing his throat, Mamoru pulled two clinking tokens from his pocket and held them out to Usagi. They clattered into the palm of her outstretched hand, and his fingertips barely brushed against her skin before pulling back, and she was blinking up at him as if she'd forgotten he was there. As if she'd forgotten that he'd even been given an invitation.

He swallowed and tried not to look like a fool holding her gaze. Tried not to give too much away, even though his heart was galloping again and he knew the truth must be scrawled across his irises. _It's me. It's me. It's ME._

"Uh, thanks?" she said, withdrawing her hand with the two tokens nestled inside it.

"Usagi-chan?" said a girl Mamoru didn't know, snapping them both from the silence, reminding Mamoru that he had not, in fact, spoken the words aloud. He wasn't found out. A couple tokens proved nothing.

"You might want to hurry up," said the girl, holding up a cell phone. "I just got a message from my mom—I guess a big thunder storm is rolling in."

A series of excited oohs rolled through the crowd, although the thrill of a storm was dampened by the realization that it meant they'd all have to leave before the storm arrived.

"Right," said Usagi, holding the tokens against her heart, which probably had absolutely, positively nothing to do with the fact that they'd come from Mamoru, but it didn't stop his heartbeat from tripping. She spun back toward Azad Ali, the All-Knowing Genie, took a deep breath, and dropped the two tokens into the slot.

The genie shook off his years of neglect and roared to life with a burst of flaming magic. Or, more like a series of clicks and gears struggling to turn somewhere inside the machine. But his eyes did start to glow red and his head rotated back and forth a few times, which was distinctly eerie in a way that only a fortune telling machine from the eighties can be eerie.

"YE WHO SEEKS POWER AND WISDOM FROM AHMAT ALI, SEEK YOUR TRUE FORTUNE BELOW."

That was all. The red flashing lights. The booming voice. And then the humming and clicking died out all at once and Azad was dead to the world once more, for another twenty years or so. How peculiar that he wasn't more popular.

"Um, is that it?" said Usagi.

As if in response to her question, a piece of cardstock tumbled out of the machine, into the little metal tray beneath the token slot.

Mamoru released a relieved breath. He'd been worried that he'd make a mistake in substituting the clue for the real fortune cards, or that it would jam the slot or something, but it had worked like a charm.

Amazingly, his brilliant-if-slightly-insane plan was going smoothly.

Perhaps too smoothly.

"It's another clue!" Usagi said as she unfolded the paper and two dozen teenagers crowded in around her. Mamoru, left to his nerves in the back of the crowd, couldn't see her face as she read aloud.

_I watch you struggle for a gem,_

_A trinket, a jewel._

_If you asked, I'd give a thousand tokens_

_And win them all for you._

Motoki sidled next to Mamoru and muttered, "I didn't realize you were such a poet."

Mamoru ducked his head, hoping no one was paying them attention. "Shut up."

"Seriously, Mamoru?" Motoki continued, not shutting up. "A scavenger hunt?" Motoki smiled like he couldn't decide if he was impressed or mortified on his best friend's behalf. "You sure do have a way of overcomplicating things, you know that?"

Mamoru shuffled away from the group, dragging Motoki with him. "Would you be quiet? She'll hear you."

But neither Usagi nor any of the partygoers were listening. They were all arguing about the card—_is it about somebody's jewelry? Or maybe there's an engagement ring nearby. Could it be in the token machine? Maybe it's a false clue, just a sweet little poem and not meant to lead them somewhere at all. Maybe it's all a hoax._

Mamoru sighed. The night had been such a rollercoaster. He felt ready to keel over with the constantly spiking and plummeting adrenaline. "I just wanted to do something special, okay? Something she would remember."

His words were cut short by the distant rumbling of thunder, so deep it rattled the windows. Usagi squeaked and the party fell silent, everyone turning toward the front of the arcade as a torrent of rainfall splattered against the glass.

"Oh," said Motoki, "I don't think that's going to be a problem."

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	94. 97 Fifth Wheel

**97. Fifth Wheel**

Alicia Blade

1,189 words

A shock of lightning lit the arcade from the outside, followed by a guttural roar of thunder. The arcade trembled. The partygoers stood looking at each other, eyes wide—some with excitement, others with fear. In the center of the crowd, Usagi stood shaking almost as hard as the walls. Mamoru was almost grateful for the crowd separating them, otherwise he almost certainly would have taken her into his arms.

The thought warmed him. In this state, she may have welcomed it.

"That's it," said one of the girls, the one who had warned them of the oncoming storm before. "I'm out of here."

"No, you can't leave now!" said Minako, barring the glass doors. "It's just a summer storm. It'll be over in a few minutes."

Makoto snorted. "Come on, you wimps. Who's afraid of a little thunder and lightning?"

"I am," squeaked Usagi.

Her confession was followed by another blaze of light, another crack of thunder—and then the overhead lights flickered and went out.

Usagi screamed. The sound tore through Mamoru and he couldn't keep himself from pushing toward her, but the sudden chaos of the arcade shuffled between them. Bodies crashing, girls screaming, boys laughing at the girls, everyone jostling and moving and shoving into each other.

The lights flickered and the arcade was bright again. The crowd froze.

Mamoru sought out Usagi, heart aching for her . . . until his heart plummeted.

Somehow, in the dark, in the madness, she had found Motoki. He was holding her—far too close—her face buried into his chest, her shoulders trembling. "It's okay," he was saying. "Just a storm. It'll pass, Usagi-chan."

Stomach twisting, Mamoru turned away before anyone caught him staring. _He's just comforting her. Like a friend. Like a big brother. That's all._

But why did he have to look so gentle?

Mamoru shut his eyes, jaw clenching, and tried to erase the image from his mind.

"That is the last straw," one of the girls said. "No offense, Usagi-chan, I love you to death and hope you find your admirer, but I am going home."

With the exception of Usagi's closest friends, the crowd agreed. There was a rush to gather up belongings, share goodbye hugs, call rides, and then the arcade emptied out into the stormy streets. The glass doors shut behind them, leaving a puddle on the linoleum where the blasting rain had gotten in.

Of course, Usagi had backed out of Motoki's embrace as soon as people began departing, but to Mamoru it seemed she lingered too close. Wary of needing him again. Almost like she was hoping for another bolt of lightning to send her into his arms . . .

Mamoru shook his head. He was being ridiculous. It wasn't like he hadn't known of her crush months ago, and yet it had always seemed so slight. He'd never thought it was based on much more than friendly flirtation.

And it had never crossed his mind, not even for a second, that Motoki might like her back. Not since Motoki knew how deeply Mamoru cared for her. Not since he'd always said he thought of her as a sister. Not since he'd once admitted he might have a little thing for Makoto.

But then why, why, _why_ had he held her like _that_?

"Well," said Minako, settling her hands on her hips. "_I'm_ not leaving until we find out who this admirer of Usagi's is. Give me that clue!"

It was seconds before Minako, Makoto, Rei, and Ami swarmed Usagi and dragged her to the booth in the far back, away from the rain that pounded against the windows, away from Mamoru and Motoki. Mamoru could hear them giggling and joking and after awhile Usagi seemed to perk out of her fear and join them, storm momentarily forgotten. Pieces of the poem he'd written drifted to his ears, followed by guesses, interpretations, and the occasional sidetracked bit of gossip.

He, Mamoru—the only non-friend and non-arcade-employee who hadn't left with the crowd—went unnoticed. He gulped, wondering if he should leave. Wondering if the fun and games were over and maybe it would be best if Usagi never found out he was her admirer after all.

"You all right?" said Motoki, voice low even though the girls would have been too far away and too distracted to hear.

Mamoru shrugged. "Sure. Of course." A pause. "Storm sure killed the party, didn't it?"

Motoki squinted at him, opened his mouth as if to say something, but froze. "Yeah. I guess Usagi-chan's pretty afraid of lightning."

Mamoru stared.

Motoki rolled his eyes. "I suppose you already knew that."

"I suppose I did."

Motoki glanced back at the girls. "That last clue must be pretty tough?"

"I think she'll figure it out." _I hope._

Or maybe he didn't.

"Well. Want to help me start cleaning up while the detectives are busy?"

Unable to muster a smile, Mamoru just nodded and made his way to the pile of wrapping paper and discarded ribbons and started tossing them into the nearby garbage. He spotted the box of chocolates—the first clue—forgotten amidst the gifts. Fun and games. The scavenger hunt had been a mistake, he realized, too late. To turn something as serious as his heart into a silly stunt, a childish game to be played and then forgotten. How could she know the importance of this? How could she know that at the end of the trail of clues, it wouldn't be a game anymore? It would just be him, Mamoru, offering her . . . a choice.

He was hers. But would she have him?

"Shhhhh!"

Mamoru started as the shushing sound pierced his thoughts.

"Oh, what does _he_ care?" said Makoto from behind him. "You have to admit, I have an excellent point."

"I agree," said Rei. "Who else could it be, if not Motoki-san?"

Mamoru started scooping up the paper with a vengeance, not wanting to hear their whispered theories—and yet his ears betrayed him, straining to hear over the crumpling paper.

"It does seem unlikely that it would be Mamoru-san," said Ami, her voice quieter than the rest, "but Motoki? Are you sure?"

"Positive. Her admirer wouldn't have left because of a silly storm, and they're the only two boys still here!"

"Plus, who else would have access to the genie game?" added Rei.

"And," continued Makoto, "weren't you just saying last week that he's been asking strange around you, Usagi-chan? Like he might be keeping a secret?"

"It's so romantic," said Minako, the loudest of all. "After all this time, after being in love with him for so long, things are finally happening! I bet he's been planning this for months!"

Mamoru had stopped shoveling the paper into the garbage can and didn't realize it until the shreds of shimmery wrapping paper all but disintegrated in his fists.

He did not look at Usagi, who had said nothing, denied nothing. He did not look at her friends. He did not look at Motoki.

Kicking his way through the scraps, he left without looking back.

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	95. 24 Dragonfly

**24. Dragonfly**

Alicia Blade

1,465 words

Usagi's eyes were glued to her fingers, madly picking at the loose trim around the booth's table, when she heard the crinkle and crunch of discarded wrapping paper. She peered up through her bangs. Mamoru was leaving, his feet kicking the paper into little flurries on his way to the door.

He looked tense, angry.

But that could have been just her imagination.

He didn't even say goodbye, didn't even look back as the doors opened and the raging storm swallowed him whole.

Had he heard them talking about Motoki? Had he heard her friends' blatant speculations—_Motoki _must_ be your secret admirer. After all, it couldn't _possibly_ be Mamoru!_ She shivered with mortification. If only they knew the thoughts surging through her.

"What's gotten into him?" Minako muttered as the glass doors shut, to the rumble of thunder passing by some miles away.

"Maybe the cake wasn't sitting well with him," said Rei, reaching forward and snatching the Genie's clue out of Ami's hand.

Usagi lowered her gaze again, inspecting her fingernails. "He didn't eat any cake," she whispered, but no one acknowledged her. She tried to quell the disappointment that wormed its way up her spine. Makoto was right. Her secret admirer wouldn't leave just because of some storm, and he certainly wouldn't leave without even saying goodbye to her.

And now, Motoki-san was the only guy left.

She tried to smile, inwardly first to test it out before letting it turn up her lips. She adored Motoki. He was a great guy, a fun guy, a sweet guy. She should be thrilled and honored that he might be interested in her.

But she'd so been hoping . . . she was sure Mamoru had been watching her closely all night, sure he'd been acting as if he wanted to tell her something.

She bit her lip, the smile disintegrating, and tried to distract herself from the sting in her heart. It was all ridiculous. Who was she to be disappointed right now?

She had a wonderful birthday party. She had a _secret admirer,_ for heaven's sake.

Just because Mamoru wasn't . . .

Just because Mamoru didn't . . .

"Usagi-chan, are you all right?"

She looked up, finding four concerned pairs of eyes upon her, and recalled the grin. "Of course!" she said, sitting taller. "Maybe that cake isn't sitting well with _me._"

They laughed, as expected, and Usagi felt a little better.

She. Was. Fine. She just had to keep reminding herself of that. She just had to stay happy.

"Let me see the clue again," she said, taking it from Rei. "We'll be here all night at this rate."

"It's awfully vague," said Ami, who was typing things into her cell phone, no doubt searching the internet for clues to the clue. "I'm not finding anything."

"Of course you're not going to find anything online," said Makoto. "It's about Usagi-chan."

"Read it again?" said Minako, scrunching her face in concentration.

Usagi took in a breath, and read:

"_I watch you struggle for a gem,_

_A trinket, a jewel._

_If you asked, I'd give a thousand tokens_

_And win them all for you."_

"Struggle for a gem?" said Minako. "When do you struggle for a gem?"

"The Sailor V game?" said Minako. "Points are kind of like gems, right?"

"Or Zelda, maybe—it could mean the rupees," said Rei.

Usagi shook her head. "I haven't played Zelda in years. Why would I—" She paused, realization dawning. "Wait. I think . . . what about the claw game?"

The girls stared at her, then looked toward the doors, at the three standing bins—two filled with stuffed animals and plushies, the other displaying jewelry boxes upon a bed of gray sand. Usagi straightened her shoulders. "That's it. It has to mean that blasted claw game."

"I think you're right," said Makoto, pulling herself from the booth. "You've been trying to get that broach for weeks!"

The girls followed, clustering around the glass case and peering down at the glitzy costume jewelry. One box stood out from the others, a small velour-covered jewelry box with a dragonfly-shaped pin upon a bed of satin. Its gemstone wings twinkled up at them like emeralds and sapphires. Now, tucked just beneath its wing, was a piece of folded white paper.

"There it is," said Rei.

Usagi nodded. "And that note definitely wasn't there when I played a couple days ago." She tried to calm her rapid pulse. Another arcade game—could Mamoru have set this up? Or was Motoki really behind it all?

"What are you girls looking at?"

Usagi started and turned as Motoki marched toward them, broom in hand.

"We've found the next clue," said Minako in an overly suspicious tone. "You'll never _guess_ where it is. Or would you?"

Motoki joined their circle, staring down into the case. Usagi watched him carefully, watched as his eyes scanned the pieces. "In here?" he said.

Rei snorted. "Check the _dragonfly_ broach."

Another second, furrowing brow, and then—"Ah, you're right! Geez, I never would have noticed it in there." He nodded, as if impressed.

Usagi wet her lips. He seemed honest. Was he faking ignorance? She couldn't tell.

Then Motoki blinked, as if confused, and glanced around. "Where's Mamoru?"

"He left a few minutes ago," said Ami.

"Left?" Motoki's eyes darted to Usagi, then quickly released her. "He is coming back, right?"

A round of shrugs.

Usagi cleared her throat and tried not to look rejected. "He didn't say anything to us."

Motoki's eyes held her, concerned, and she wondered if he could see right through her.

"So Motoki-san," said Makoto, pulling his attention away, "are you able to get the jewelry box out of there for us?"

"Oh, yeah, sure, let me go get the keys."

Usagi followed him with her eyes. He had keys. He had access to the machine.

But would her secret admirer make it that easy on her? It seemed to take some fun out of the hunt. Masking a sigh, she turned back to the machine. "I want to try to get it with the claw," she said, running her fingers over the control stick.

"Don't be ridiculous," said Rei. "You haven't gotten it yet, you're not going to get it now."

"But I want to try anyway."

The girls traded glances, before Makoto reached into her back pocket and pulled out a token. "All right. Give it a shot, girl."

Usagi thanked her and took the token, dropping it into the slot. Somehow—idiotically—she convinced herself that if she could do this, if she could get the broach this time, without help, then maybe her friends would be wrong. Maybe the gift would really be from Mamoru. Maybe fate would reward her.

The claw shifted into place.

Usagi held her breath. Tapped the stick front, left, left, front . . . a tad to the right. Made a silent prayer. Smacked the button.

The claw dropped down. The girl watched, mesmerized, noses pressed to the glass, as the grippers brushed the velour boxes. Clamped loosely over the top. Slowly drew back up.

Usagi's heart sank as it became clear that her aim had been too far back, that there was no way . . .

But the box stuck, barely dangling from the tip of the claw, being drawn into the air.

Usagi gasped, her hands flying to cover her mouth. She'd gotten it! She'd actually gotten it!

"Is it just me," said Rei, "or is that box defying the laws of gravity?"

The box hung on, dangling precariously, until the claw came to a quick stop, shaking the box loose. It dropped into the chute and Usagi snatched it out.

She froze as her fingers wrapped around it, then started laughing. Opening her fingers, she let the box hang from her palm. "It's covered in some sort of glue!"

They started to laugh, all of them, and Usagi could feel a twinge of hope returning. Why would her secret admirer have ensured she could get it with the claw, if he'd planned on getting the key for her the whole time? It couldn't be Motoki.

She thought of Mamoru as he left, his tight shoulders, clenched fists.

"What's so funny?" said Motoki, returning with a key ring in his grip.

"Nothing," said Usagi, a flush over her cheeks, as she plopped herself down on the linoleum floor and took the dragonfly out of its box. She pinned it to the collar of her shirt—it felt heavy and beautiful and special.

Her secret admirer had gotten it for her.

It had to be Mamoru. It _had_ to be Mamoru. _Please, please, please,_ _let it be Mamoru._

With trembling fingers, she unfolded the third clue.

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	96. 91 Sacrifice

**91. Sacrifice**

Alicia Blade

699 words

It had been a stupid idea from the start.

Tell her he liked her? Please.

Tell her he _loved_ her? What was he, insane? What exactly had he thought would happen? She would realize how wrong she'd been about him all this time, how much she adored and admired him, how much she wanted to be with him, every waking hour of every day?

Yeah. Right.

More likely she would back away, appalled, and be too embarrassed to ever see him again. Mortified that he, the jerk, the idiot, could think for a moment she would be interested in him. In _that way._

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Especially when he'd known all along about her feelings for Motoki. She'd never tried to hide it, not since he'd met her. Motoki-san this, Motoki-san that, he's so smart, so mature, so _sweet._

Ew. Gag.

Well—never mind her. He hoped the two of them would be very happy together. He hoped Motoki would treat her well. He hoped . . .

"Dammit," he muttered when he noticed how badly his jaw was aching after grinding his teeth for the past half hour. He paused to rub it, forcing the muscles to relax, before getting back to work.

He untied the final knot, releasing the box from the tree's low-lying branch, and set it down on the nearby picnic table. He was aware that Usagi and her friends could be there at any moment. How long would it take for her to realize the last clue was pointing to her favorite dragonfly pin? He couldn't imagine it would take long once Usagi set her mind to it, but he hoped the storm would delay them.

The muddy grass squished beneath his feet as he opened the box. The rain had momentarily ceased, but it left him sopping wet and cold and hating everything in the whole wide world. Mostly himself—for having no hope of ever being what she wanted. For not being Motoki.

The only thing left for him to do would be to step out of their way. It seemed so obvious now that Motoki had been ignoring his own feelings in light of how Mamoru felt. It was such a Motoki-like thing to do. So unselfish, so generous, so not-Mamoru.

But not this time. Mamoru could see when he wasn't wanted, could see when he was in the way.

And this, her sixteenth birthday, was all about _her_ happiness.

He wanted her to be happy.

And if he was able to play some small role in that happiness, well, he would just have to be satisfied with that.

A gust of wind nearly knocked Mamoru off his feet. He had to be quick, before she found him and his secret was out and it was too late.

His damp fingers muddied the ribbon as he untied the box, but he hoped she wouldn't notice in her excitement. He opened the lid and pulled out the little envelope before he could second guess himself. Third guess himself. Fifty-third guess himself.

The gift he would leave—a single red rose.

The confession he would keep. He shoved it into his pocket and traded it for the black marker and arcade napkin there.

Would she think the napkin was another clue, pointing straight at Motoki? The thought had his fingers itching to tear it up, but he forced himself to be calm. To finish what he'd come to do..

Biting the inside of his cheek, he scribbled a hasty note on the napkin and slipped it back into the box, atop the fresh-smelling flower.

He shut the box and retied the ribbon, feeling all the planning and hoping and dreaming of the past two weeks crumble fast around him.

It was for the better.

It was for the best.

It took only a second to re-hang the box from the tree branch and then he was hurrying from the park, bundled up inside his jacket as the rain started up again, a light drizzle clinging to his bangs, dripping down his cheeks.

He'd never felt more pathetic in his life.

That is, until she rounded the corner and crashed right into his arms.

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	97. 51 Lightning

**51. Lightning**

Alicia Blade

740 words

"Ooph." Mamoru stumbled back as Usagi's startled cry trilled through the vacant street. Her momentum sent them both toppling over into the storm drain and a cleverly placed mud puddle.

Mamoru groaned, feeling the cold squishiness of mud and road run-off soaking into his pants. "Really, Odango? We have to do this _every time?_"

She sat back on her heels and stared at him, confusion coupled with speculation. Her adorable party dress was soaked through and her nylons were spattered with mud, but she didn't look cold or unhappy.

Just suspicious.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just going for a swim." Mamoru grasped her by the elbows and hauled them both out of the puddle, before futilely trying to swipe the mud from his thighs.

The others were all there too, lingering on the sidewalk beneath the nearest shop's canopy. The girls wore that same surprise and suspicion on their faces. Motoki just looked smug.

Mamoru's stomach knotted and he turned away from his friend. He dared not theorize what the odd expression could mean.

"I mean, what are you doing _here?_" Usagi said, gesturing toward the high school half a block away.

Mamoru made a show of checking his pockets, as if afraid his wallet may have fallen out in the collision, because he was unable to hold _her_ gaze, either. "Going for some milk," he said. "My apartment's just around the corner and I wanted some for my tea." He stopped himself before he could start a nonsensical rant about the pleasures of tea on a stormy summer evening. He cleared his throat. "What are _you_ doing here? Is the party over already?"

It was then that he noticed the dragonfly broach on her sweater, trying its best to sparkle in the dark night. His eyes darted down, then up. Catching her eye. She furrowed her brow at him.

Motoki piped up, "After you left so suddenly, the girls figured out that last secret admirer clue."

"Ah." Mamoru feigned indifference. "And who's the lucky guy?"

Wrapping her arms around herself, as if suddenly uncomfortable, Usagi shrugged. "Don't know yet. It said to check the tree I always eat lunch under." She paused. "So I guess it's probably someone from school."

She was watching him carefully, no doubt thinking of the countless times they'd run into each other on this very street during her lunch break.

"That makes sense," said Mamoru. Nodding. Very serious.

The drizzle grew heavier, the clouds wringing above them.

"Well, I won't keep you out here," Mamoru said over the growing torrent. "Good luck finding your—"

The sky lit up with a streak of lightning, followed by instantaneous thunder that rattled the buildings around them.

Usagi rushed into him with a shriek and buried her head in his jacket.

Mamoru froze, pulling up his outstretched fingers as if in surrender. His breathing stopped while his pulse raced. Beads of rain dripped from his hair down onto her head and he stared, not knowing what to do.

She shivered, and his walls crumbled all at once.

"Dammit," he muttered, swooping his arms around her. He held her tight for a single, longing breath, his face contorting in helplessness.

Just as his imagination started to carry him away, thinking—how different things could have been, if he'd only tried to deserve her—he grasped her shoulders and pushed her away from him.

"Okay," he said, too sharp, too loud, unable to look at her or Motoki. "That's . . . nice. I, um, better get going. Let you find your admirer. Get out of this storm. All right then. Best of luck."

His fingers released her.

He was careful not to let their shoulders touch as he walked past, head lowered. Thrusting his chilled hands into his pockets, he discovered the letter there. His confession. He crumpled it in his fist as he walked away.

…

Usagi stared, lips parted, and watched him go. The warmth from his embrace dwindled as a gust of wind threw sharp raindrops into her face.

Minako inched toward her, out of the canopy's shelter. "Well," she said, laying a hand on Usagi's shoulder. "Are you ready to find the last clue and discover your one true love?"

As Mamoru rounded a corner, Usagi found herself able to breathe again. It was all too strange, too coincidental, too filled with unrelenting hope.

"Yes," she said, pulling up a smile. "I'm ready."

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	98. 80 Pandora's Box

**80. Pandora's Box**

Alicia Blade

1,031 words

Usagi huddled in between Ami and Makoto as they rushed across the school's main courtyard and toward the grassy knoll where they normally took their lunch. Minako and Rei walked ahead, almost more excited than Usagi it seemed. After all, everyone likes a good mystery.

Motoki loitered in the back of the group.

A part of Usagi wished he hadn't come. A fairly large part of her.

Not that she had anything against Motoki. She _loved _Motoki.

Like a big brother. A sweet, handsome, charming . . . big brother.

But what if he really was her secret admirer? What if all the clues and the gifts were leading her to him? She would be crushed, and the thought of him being there when she found out was tearing her up inside. She didn't want to hurt Motoki and she really didn't want to ruin their friendship. She didn't know what she was going to do if it turned out to be him. Crawl into a soggy hole and die, probably.

In the back corner of her thoughts, shoved into such a tight little ball that she could barely bring herself to acknowledge it, was another possibility. A slim hope. A risky dream.

What if it was Mamoru?

He'd been at the party. He probably could have gotten access to the arcade games. And the coincidence of meeting him on the school corner minutes ago was simply too much. She didn't even know if he really lived nearby like he claimed, and she dared not ask Motoki, just in case.

That hope was too much, though. Thinking of it stole her breath away, made her nearly dissolve into tears every time she let her thoughts settle there. She wanted to fall to her knees and beg and plead with the stars above to _please _let it be Mamoru. To have Mamoru-baka feel the same way for her that she felt for him would be—

Impossible.

Simply impossible.

She couldn't let herself think it, couldn't begin to dream it—because it would ruin her once she discovered it wasn't true. She would be heartbroken.

Better not to hope at all.

"There!" said Minako. "I see something!"

Usagi followed her pointing finger to the oak tree branches, where a small thin box was dangling from a series of twine ropes. In the gloomy night, the box struck her as something surreal, almost magical. Like a fairy's box in an enchanted forest. Or perhaps a phantom pirate's treasure. Whimsical, but ominous at the same time.

Truth was in that box.

Usagi wasn't sure if she was ready to know the truth, but she pressed forward out of the group anyway. She climbed up onto the picnic table bench that sat beneath the tree so she could reach the box and carefully untied each knot, releasing the box into her hold.

It was light. Feather light. Empty light.

Climbing back down, she turned so that she could see the box better in the light from the school's courtyard, but the girls' shadows engulfed it as they clustered around her.

It was a wooden box, long and slender, plain as plain could be. The lid was damp from the storm.

"Usagi-chan, you're killing me," said Minako, bouncing on her feet. "Would you just open it already?"

Usagi tried to laugh as she swallowed her fears, and pulled off the lid.

A plain white napkin stared up at her.

Usagi tensed, her eyes taking in the unexpected scribbles there before she could prepare herself for them.

Written hastily in black marker, it read:

_**I'm a coward and I'm sorry. Happy Birthday.**_

Her lashes fluttered. She scanned the words again and again. Let them bleed into her thoughts as they'd bled into the fibers of the napkin.

After an awkward hush, Rei read the words aloud over Usagi's shoulder so that the whole group could hear them. Glances were traded over the wet grass, but not with Usagi. She couldn't stop staring at the words.

The napkin.

From, she was quite certain, the arcade.

"What does that mean?" said Makoto. "Is it another clue?"

"I . . ." Rei started, but paused with a worried glance at Usagi before continuing. "I think it maybe means . . . he changed his mind."

"I think it just means he's a coward, just like it says," said Minako, planting her hands on her hips. "What a lousy way to end a scavenger hunt! When I find out who he is, I am going to give him a piece of my mind."

A single chuckle dropped out of Usagi's mouth, and with it the tension knotted up in her shoulders. A tingle of relief crept up from her cold toes and spread all the way out to her numb fingers.

Maybe it was a lousy way to end the scavenger hunt, but at least she wouldn't be responsible for hurting anyone's feelings tonight.

Holding onto that uncertain smile, she looked up at her friends and shrugged. "It's okay. I get to keep my beautiful broach, right? And the chocolates. And besides, this was fun."

Only once she'd managed to get the words out did she dare to glance at Motoki. She was startled by his expression. Anger. She was pretty sure, though she'd never seen it on him. Or at least strong irritation. He was looking at the box, but a second later he heaved a loud sigh and cast his eyes skyward.

In that second, Usagi knew, without a doubt, that her admirer was not Motoki. A cowardly admirer would have looked bashful, embarrassed, or even pretended indifference—but he would not have looked angry.

She furrowed her brow. _A cowardly admirer's _friend,_ on the other hand . . ._

"What's under the napkin, Usagi-chan?" said Ami.

Pulling her eyes away from Motoki, Usagi refocused on the napkin. Read the words one more time (_I'm sorry_), and gently lifted the napkin away.

Beneath it, nestled into a bed of cotton, was a single red rose. Its fragrance whispered at her in the humid air, warming her.

Smiling, Usagi crumpled the napkin up in her hand and allowed herself to hope.

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	99. 33 Gift

**33. Gift **

Alicia Blade

1,201 words

Usagi lay cradled in her bed, squinting blearily as the morning sun spotlighted the vase on her dresser, and the single red rose kept in it. The previous evening seemed like a dream—a long, sweet, perfect dream—and the sun chasing away all signs of the storm completed the fantasy.

But no, perhaps the dream wasn't all perfect. Nothing had been resolved, after all. She didn't know who her secret admirer was. She certainly didn't have a confession of love to cherish now, or a boyfriend for that matter.

She did have a beautiful rose, though, and the rhinestone broach she'd coveted for months, and a box of fifteen chocolates to indulge in.

Well, okay, eleven chocolates. She'd gotten hungry on the way home.

And she did know that someone, somewhere, thought she was worth the trouble. The trouble of thinking and plotting and making up some elaborate scheme to win her affection, even if he couldn't go through with it in the end. Even if he still left her guessing.

Guessing, guessing.

Only one name was circulating in her thoughts though. One guess. One hope.

Chiba Mamoru.

He had barely said anything to her throughout the whole party. _Happy birthday, _when she'd teased him about only wanting to eat her cake. He hadn't even teased her back, hadn't even called her Odango Atama. She hadn't noticed at the time, but now she picked up on a distinct discomfort. He'd been nervous.

And then there was his anger when the girls had joked about Motoki being her secret admirer, about the two of them making a perfect pair. How Mamoru had stormed out of the arcade without saying goodbye.

Meeting him on the sidewalk, in the rain, just outside the school. It couldn't be coincidence.

She curled up on herself, shivering all the sudden with uncontrollable happiness. She shut her eyes as a grin peeled across her lips. She laughed. Buried her face in her pillow to stifle it.

Mamoru. Mamoru. Mamoru. It had to be him.

She knew that her hopes were probably invading her logic. Probably if she took the time to really think about all that had happened last night, she would realize she was reading into nothing. She would realize the possibility of Mamoru liking her (_loving her?_) was no more realistic now than it had been two days ago. But she couldn't help herself. The wishes were too strong. For now, she would let herself be happy in the belief, and ignore the quiet cynic murmuring in her ear.

Of course, even her radiating joy couldn't keep one problem at bay. Even if it had been Mamoru, in the end he hadn't gone through with it. He had not confessed to anything.

And she could never, ever ask him about it. The embarrassment if she found out she was wrong would kill her.

But from now on, she would be watching, and listening, and hoping.

Downstairs, someone knocked at the front door. She didn't move until her mom called up to her, and then her whole body stiffened.

_Could it be him?_

Could he have gained his courage after all? Could he be here to tell her the truth?

Swallowing her heart back down, she flung herself out of bed and dressed quickly. Tied up her hair. Took the time to dab on some cherry lip gloss, for good luck.

She paused in the hallway to gather herself, though her eyes were close to watering with nerves, before rounding the stairway landing.

It was not Mamoru.

It was Motoki.

She froze.

His smile when he saw her was as warm as it always was. As kind and generous and compassionate as ever. It filled her with terror.

No. No. No. No. No. It could not be Motoki. Her secret admirer _could not be Motoki._

"Good morning, Usagi-chan," he said. "Sorry to wake you so early."

Her jaw worked, finally settling on the words, "What are you doing here?"

With a chuckle, he slid his hands into his pockets. "I have a birthday gift for you. Something I should have given you last night."

She shrank against the stair rail. "B-but you gave me the gift certificate, remember? For the milkshakes. Y-you don't have to give me anything else."

"I know, but I think you're going to like this. Well, I hope you're going to like this. It has to do with the clues last night. And your secret admirer."

Misery settled in the pit of her stomach and though she wanted nothing more than to run back to her room and fling herself onto her bed and dissolve into tears—_it wasn't Mamoru after all_—politeness forced her down the stairs. To the foyer. To Motoki.

He pulled something out of his pocket.

A napkin.

Like the napkin found in the box last night, with her rose.

She tried to shake her head. "You really don't have to give me anything else, Motoki-onii-san," she said, hoping to reject him gently. She loved him like a brother. How could he do this to her? "Really."

But he didn't listen. His arm extended toward her. The napkin had seen better days—it was wrinkled and crumpled and seemed to be smudge with pasta sauce on the corner.

"Just read it," he said when she made no move to take it. "And if, you know, you don't feel that way then—well, we're the only ones who will ever know. I'll never tell anyone else, I promise. But you have to read it."

She sighed in resignation. He was being good to her, much better than she deserved.

Pursing her lips, she took the napkin. Held her breath as she peeled it open.

Her mind was still searching for the right apology, the right way to turn Motoki down without hurting his feelings, while she read the napkin.

She paused, her mind clearing, and had to read it again to make sure her mind wasn't playing a cruel joke on her.

Her jaw dropped. A tingle through her nerves nearly buckled her knees.

_I, Chiba Mamoru, am crazy in love with one Tsukino Usagi, but am too chicken to tell her when I'm not inebriated._

His signature finished it off. A little messy, a little crooked, but his signature nonetheless.

"Ma-moru?"

"He was your admirer," said Motoki.

"Mamoru?"

"Yeah. Look, I know things have been rocky between you two, but I thought you deserved to know. Do with it what you will." He hesitated, before adding, "Mamoru can be a jerk sometimes, I know that. But . . . he really does care for you. A lot."

She peeled her eyes off the napkin to gape at him. "_Mamoru?_"

He nodded, eyes softening at her shock. "Be nice to him, Usagi-chan. Oh, and happy birthday."

She could not muster a thank you or a goodbye or any response before he'd stepped back off the porch and walked away, leaving her stranded in her doorway. Clutching the napkin to her gasping lips.

When she could no longer see Motoki, she slammed the door and ran back up the stairs.

Today was going to require more than cherry lip gloss.

(_To be continued…_)

**BIG NEWS! I'm going to be published! More info to come at the end of this series.**


	100. 75 My Soul's Shelter

_This drabble completes the 100 Themes Drabble Challenge. I hope you've enjoyed!_

**75. My Soul's Shelter**

Alicia Blade

1,604 words

His morning jog had been twice as long as normal in an attempt to distract himself from everything that had happened last night, and everything that was probably happening right now.

What was Usagi doing?

What was Motoki doing?

Were they together? Were they happy?

The jog had not been very effective with that whole distraction thing.

Finally returning to his apartment, sore and irate in every sense of the word, Mamoru nearly stepped on the small white cocktail napkin that lay a few feet inside his door, stumbling over it at the last second. Simultaneously swiping the sweat off his brow, he stooped to pick up the napkin and flipped it over.

_Meet me at the place where we first met._

The uncomfortable, squirming, uncertain fluttering that had been in his stomach all the previous day returned full-force. He read it twice, three times, trying to dissuade himself from the assumption that it had to be her.

But it _had _to be her.

But what did it mean? Did she know? _How_ could she know?

He took the fastest shower of his life and, napkin in hand, ran back out to the street.

The Osa-P jewelry shop was half a mile toward downtown and Mamoru made record time, trying to both hurry and keep himself from looking like a ragged, exhausted, sweaty mess by the time he arrived.

But his steps slowed when he rounded the corner with his heart in his throat, and saw her.

"Rei?"

She spun toward him and beamed. "Hello, Mamoru-san."

He opened his mouth to speak, but the disappointment stifled any words. Rei? It was _Rei?_

But . . .

"This isn't where we met."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," she said, and handed him another napkin.

_Meet me where you first called me Odango._

It took him a moment to think back to a time when Odango hadn't been the term of affection he now held close to his heart, before he remembered the small bakery where she'd been gobbling down the sweet buns like a famine survivor. He thanked Rei and ran.

Ami was waiting for him outside the bakery, leaning against the brick wall and reading a book like she stood and read there all the time. Her serenity made Mamoru all the more nervous.

"Ami, where is she?" he said, startling her.

"I'm sorry, Mamoru-san," she said. "I'm not supposed to say." But she was smiling as she pulled a napkin from the pages of her book.

"You can't be serious," he said, snatching it away from her.

_Meet me where we collide every morning._

He huffed and left without saying goodbye.

Makoto was on the corner outside the school, pacing. She looked relieved when she spotted Mamoru hurrying toward her.

"About time," she muttered, pulling a sad, crumpled napkin from her napkin and forcing it into his hand. "I was beginning to worry you might not come. Then I would have had to kill you."

He didn't think she was joking, even though her eyes were sparkling as he unraveled the napkin.

_Meet me where you should have met me last night._

He gulped as he digested the words. Now there could be no more uncertainty. She _definitely_ knew he was her secret admirer.

His pace slowed considerably as he marched into the school courtyard, trying to determine if this was a good thing or not. Usagi was not cruel. She would not be putting him through this just to taunt him or mock him.

But was it possible that Usagi wasn't behind this at all? Could Motoki have set this up? Mamoru wouldn't put it past him.

Rounding the school's main building, he spotted the tree where he'd hung Usagi's gift the night before, and Minako seated cross-legged on the picnic table beneath it. Her face brightened when she spotted him, and though she didn't get up to meet him, she had her napkin held out by the time he reached her. Her legs jogged as he took it, her giddiness effervescent.

"Thanks," he muttered.

"You're welcome," she chirped, leaning forward as he read.

_Meet me where you fell in love with me?_

His heart skipped. The question mark jumped out at him and he couldn't be sure—was she questioning where it had happened, or that it had happened at all?

"It's the arcade," Minako blurted when Mamoru had been silent too long for her comfort. "We didn't know if that would be too hard to follow. But it's the arcade."

He gulped and peered up at her. "Will she be there? For real? No more clues?"

Minako bit her lower lip and remained silent, though the pain of it was written across every inch of her face.

With an exasperated nod, Mamoru took off for the arcade.

She _was_ there.

At the counter, her back blessedly turned to him so that he could catch his breath without feeling like an idiot. She was wearing a pale pink sundress and gemstone clips in her hair. She looked lovely, like she'd dressed up for something special.

Someone special.

The fear and anxiety expanded inside Mamoru until he could barely breathe. As he approached her, he sensed that she was not the vision of perfect calmness he'd first taken in. Her feet were bouncing nonstop on the bar of the stool and there was a tenseness in her shoulders that had never been there before.

She was holding an untouched chocolate milkshake.

That was certainly a first.

"Not thirsty?" he said when he was close enough.

She jumped and turned wide eyes on him. Her blush was instant, redness flushing over her entire face and down her neck. Her eyes were filled with disbelief as she gaped at him, as if she couldn't believe he'd really come.

After a moment, she dipped her head, unable to hold his gaze any longer, and twirled a finger around her stomach. "Butterflies," she said, in answer to his question.

"Yeah," Mamoru murmured back and sank stiffly onto the stool beside her. "I know the feeling."

The silence was agony. Mamoru stared at the counter. He saw Usagi wrap her hands around the shake again without drinking it. He waited, but she seemed to be waiting too. The noise of the arcade bustled and beeped around them, but Mamoru was listening to the sound of her breathing and a gazillion different sentences that started to form in his head but never sounded quite right.

Finally: "That was a clever hunt you sent me on."

Her fingers fidgeted, spinning the tall milkshake glass around. "Not as clever as the one you sent me on." He heard her take in a deep breath. Then: "Why did you change your mind last night?"

He shook his head. Shrugged. "Fear. Doubt. Vulnerability."

Usagi's fingers tightened on the glass until her knuckles were white, before releasing it. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know the feeling."

Gulping, she lifted the milkshake and slid the small napkin out from beneath the glass. She pushed it toward Mamoru, then drew back, hunching her shoulders as if afraid the ceiling was about to crash down around her.

Holding his breath, he took the edge of the napkin and turned it over. From the corner of his eye, he could see Usagi's hands trembling as he read.

_This is where I fell in love with you, too._

He stared at the words, so carefully written, for a very long time, unable to believe he was seeing them correctly. His emotions fluctuated between expanding joy that threatened to overwhelm him, and the sickening knowledge that he was not prepared for this moment. He had no idea what to do. Disbelief battled hope in his gut, but hope was slowly, slowly winning.

"Ma . . . Mamoru?"

He dared to meet her gaze. Her beautiful face, filled with fear. Doubt. Vulnerability.

"Please say something," she whispered.

He opened his mouth, but whatever words would have come out were silenced by sudden tittering. He and Usagi both glanced toward the doors and saw her four friends and Motoki all clustered around, watching them. They all had dopey grins and, when she realized they'd been spotted, Minako gave two enthusiastic thumbs up.

Usagi ducked, hiding her face. As Mamoru refocused on her, he saw that her blush had returned full-force. "I'm sorry," she said. "You know how they are."

Instead of answering, he slid off the stool. She looked up at the sudden movement and he held a hand out to her. Usagi blinked, questioning, before taking his hand and letting him pull her toward him.

"This rose is red," he said. "Your eyes are blue. My sweetest Odango Atama, I'm in love with you." He paused, licking his lips. "That's what the note was supposed to say. Not my best work, I know, but when it comes to you, I—" His fingers tightened around hers and she returned it, tears pooling in her eyes.

Then an astonished, glowing laugh slipped out of her and she smiled.

Like a balloon struck with a needle, the tension burst inside Mamoru and he found himself smiling back at her, and then laughing, and then cupping her beautiful face in both hands. "I love you."

Her lashes fluttered. "I love you, too."

She stood on her tiptoes as he craned his head down and, with only the slightest hesitation, pressed his lips to hers.

A chorus of _aaaawws _exploded from the back of the arcade and Mamoru found himself smiling against Usagi's smile.

"Happy birthday," he whispered.

"Thanks," she said, and kissed him again.


	101. Announcement

ANNOUNCEMENT

Hey everyone!

Sorry for all the obnoxious notes following these last few drabbles, but I wanted to make sure no one missed only the biggest announcement of my LIFE.

_**I am going to be published!**_

Not just poetry, not just a novelette in an anthology, but a _real book!_

I'm so excited I could keel over at any minute.

SO:

My debut novel, CINDER, is scheduled to be released from Feiwel & Friends (an imprint of Macmillan) in Spring 2012, under my real name Marissa Meyer.

Here's the summary as posted in _Publisher's Weekly:_

"In _Cinder_, the first book of the futuristic, fairy-tale inspired series, Cinderella is re-envisioned through teen heroine Cinder, part girl and part machine, who must piece together her mysterious past before she can fulfill her destiny and save the kingdom from an otherworldly enemy. Cinder finds allies loosely based on other fairy-tale characters-Little Red Riding Hood (_Scarlet_), Rapunzel (_Cress_), and Snow White (_Winter_)-as they join forces to conquer evil and find their happily-ever-afters."

You can stay updated by visiting my blog or signing up for my newsletter (links on my profile).

So many of you have been following my stories since I started writing (twelve loooong years ago!) and I'm so thrilled to be able to share this news with you. I hope you will read and enjoy CINDER, the entire Lunar series, and all my novels in the future!

With endless love and gratitude for your constant support and encouragement,

Alicia Blade

a.k.a. Marissa Meyer


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